Parachute
by Disposable Sunshine
Summary: Anya has always been a ray of sunshine, while Eli's preferred to live in his darkness. When Anya's life spirals out of control, Eli finds himself playing her savior. Is it love, or does misery just love company?  Enya
1. Under Pressure

_**Parachute**_

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction. None of the characters, places, or other names associated with this fic are mine.

_**Chapter One:**_** Under Pressure**

He had never had cause to think of it before, but now that he did, it was striking to Eli how different the pain was following the death of a relationship from the pain following the death of someone you were _in _a relationship with.

Julia never really left his mind, and every day he found himself missing something about her – the evil glare she'd give him when he was too forward, the way her lips always tasted like coconut, how her towels always had stains of black hair dye on them. All the little things you'd never miss about someone while they were there were the things he longed for so much he often found it hard to sleep.

It was different now, with Clare. He might miss Julia every day, but all he had of her were memories. When it got to be too sad, he could lock her away. He could be busy and not think of her. But not with Clare. She was still there, still walking around, which meant her pain could sneak up on him. He'd be doing what he could to not remember the look of fear in her eyes when she came to the hospital, to not think about the horrible words that had been said, and then there she'd be, walking down the hall with Alli or writing in a notebook at her desk, and it'd all come crashing to the forefront of his mind.

He knew the pain of losing Julia was a permanent one, because he'd never be able to get anything they had back. And sure, maybe he'd never win Clare back, but at some point they'd talk, at some point they'd heal their wounds and he could at least think of her as someone he could make smile again. So Julia's pain was worse because it was more permanent, but in those days at the beginning of the semester, Clare's pain was more real and inescapable.

He did what he could, though, not to let this fact come to Clare's attention. The last thing he wanted after his desperate ploy with Morty was for her to have any more reasons to pity him. He spent more time with Adam, making sure to never walk down the hallway alone, so that on those awkward trips past her locker when she'd glance at him with eyes full of empty apologies, he could keep his head inclined toward Adam and pretend not to notice. But of course he noticed. It might be part of the reason she thought him so crazy, but he noticed everything about Clare, even then. She could have parted her hair a centimeter the other direction and he would have seen.

"Dude. Eli. Stop!" Eli looked up from his tray, raising his eyebrows at Adam, who was glaring at him from across the lunch table.

"Stop…what?" He asked after a long moment when Adam said nothing more.

"Stop thinking about her!"

"Easier said than done, my friend."

Adam rolled his eyes. "I think I've been more than patient. I mean, I've done my best not to comment on the fact that once she dumps you, you have _all_ the time in the world to be my best friend again when I hardly saw you when you were dating. I've been good, because I know you're all heartbroken and everything…but throw me a bone, here."

"Exactly what sort of bone are we talking about?"

"I don't know. Can't we just do something _fun_? Something very not-mopey and not-Claire, something where I don't have to sit here and watch you look so miserable all the time?"

"Such as?"

Adam bit his lip. Clearly, he already had a plan in mind before he ever mentioned it to Eli, but didn't seem as sure that Eli would play along. "Well…you know that senior, Hillary?"

"No."

"Well, there's this senior named Hillary –"

"I gathered that."

"—_anyway_, she's having this party tonight, her parents are out of town."

Eli swallowed. "I wasn't aware that we were the high school party-going type, Adam."

"We're not," Adam sighed, instantly looking defeated. "I just figured…"

"—that maybe I needed to try something new? That clearly whatever I was doing before wasn't entirely working for me, or I wouldn't be in this position, so what have I got to lose?"

Adam's eyes narrowed. "I…guess."

Eli smirked. He knew that all probably had very little to do with Adam's desire to go. Adam was a great friend, and far more understanding of Eli's heartbreak that most guys would be, but his desire to go to Hillary's party was for himself, not Eli. Eli took solace in being alone and brooding, but Adam longed to be part of social groups. It wasn't easy for him to find social situations where he'd feel comfortable and accepted, but he wanted to get out there and try. It was the least Eli owed him to have his back on it. "So what time's this party start, my friend?"

* * *

><p>Balancing her tray on top of her math binder and history book, Anya moved out of the lunch line and joined Chantay and Holly J, who were standing just a foot or so to the side, having already gotten their lunches. Together, they set off toward their usual table, and as always, Chantay was the first to start chattering.<p>

"So you'll never guess what's happening tonight," she burst out, her eyes glowing with the latest gossip. "Hillary Thomas is having a _monster_ party. It's going to be awesome! Anyone who is anyone at this school will be there."

"So that means nobody important's going, right?" Holly J said with a smirk as they took their seats. She looked to Anya for a laugh, but after glancing at Chantay's pursed lips, Anya just looked down and concentrated on opening her juice.

"Holly J, you don't understand. This is our last semester of high school. If ever there was a time to go attend crazy parties and go all out, this is it. It's our last chance."

Holly J raised an eyebrow. "Or, if ever there was a time to buckle down and study and get in all the extracurriculars we can, this is it."

Chantay let out a huff. "Seriously, Holly J, what extracurricular are you going to do on a Friday night?"

Holly J didn't respond, so Chantay turned to Anya for support. "Come on, Anya, doesn't it sound fun? After that crazy test we just had in Armstrong's, I think we could all use a crazy fun night."

Anya looked down at her tray again. She could use this 'crazy fun' night Chantay was envisioning for far more reasons than Armstrong's complicated math exam. But Chantay wasn't the kind of friend she could explain all that too. Actually, none of her friends were, and wasn't that part of the problem?

"I think you're right," Anya found herself saying, at the exact moment that Holly J said, "I don't think it's such a great idea."

They looked at each other. "Why isn't it a good idea?" Anya asked.

Holly J glanced pointedly at the empty chair on her other side. "_Fiona_," she said carefully, stressing each syllable, a look on her face as if she couldn't understand why Anya didn't already known the answer.

Anya sighed. Of course. _Fiona._ It seemed to be Holly J's only motivation these days – not upsetting Fiona, doing whatever Fiona would think was best. And an alcohol-filled high school party was certainly not something Fiona could be a part of.

Chantay pouted. "But Holly J –"

"But nothing. I can't believe you guys would be so insensitive. She has a _disease_, a serious addiction – I don't think we're being very good friends if we go out partying like that."

Deep inside, Anya knew Holly J was being a good friend. If she was Holly J, she would be saying the exact same thing. It _was_ the kind of thing good friends did – if your friend has to miss out on something, like the typical high schooler's experience of a party, then you miss out on it with them. Anya knew it wasn't easy on Holly J, all the things she did for Fiona. Boy, did she know. She heard about it every day – the late night conversation Holly J had with Fiona to keep her from drinking, the trips to see her in the middle of the night because she couldn't be alone – every experience Holly J had, Anya heard about. Nevermind what was going on in Anya's life, nevermind how little ability she had to shoulder anyone else's stress at that moment. Holly J supported Fiona, and, willing or not, Anya supported Holly J. She just wished this chain of support didn't seem to end with her, that she had someone to lean on too. But that wasn't Anya. She didn't lean on people, they leaned on her.

Anya looked from Holly J's contemptuous glare to Chantay's pouting expression, and finally said, "It's not fair, you're right. But it isn't fair to us to miss out on everything for Fiona, who isn't even here right now. She doesn't need to know we're going. Fiona's in AA, not us. If you don't want to go, Holly J, then don't. But Chantay wants to, and…so do I."

Chantay's face lit up at the news that she was going to have company, while Holly J's mouth fell open. "Anya…"

But Anya was already standing, stacking her things up. "No, Holly J, it's fine." She forced her face into a smile. "I'm not trying to be rude at all. It's just…Armstrong's test was really stressful, and I had a long night studying for it last night. I'd just like to blow some steam off tonight. And…look. Fiona deserves some special time too, so what if tomorrow you and I go shopping with her and then out to lunch? Good, clean fun, the kind she needs to have?"

Holly J looked at her for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether she should still be mad at her decision to go to the party. Finally, she smiled. "That sounds great. I'll text her tonight about it and let you know where we can meet in the morning."

"That sounds perfect," Anya said, breaking into a bigger smile. "Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I'm going to go study for my French exam later, so…I will catch you later about the party, okay, Chantay?" She barely waited for Chantay's acknowledgement before turning and heading for the door, tossing her uneaten lunch in the trash as she went.

She hurried to her locker, hardly paying attention to whoever she passed in the hall, her vision becoming blurry with tears as she went. Her fingers spun her lock blindly, as she muttered to herself, voice filled with frustration and bitterness. "Oh yes, Holly J, everything's just fine, thank you for asking. Since you've asked about my mother even once in the last month, I'm sure you already know that there's a pretty good chance she's relapsing and we have to wait till next week to get the test results back, so it's a tense hell hole at my house right now and I'd do anything not to be there. You're such a good, understanding friend. Thank you so much for letting me lean on you and letting me tell you my problems, and not burdening me with your various relationship problems and a minute-by-minute Fiona Coyne saga. You're just the best."

Finally managing to get the combination right, Anya slammed her locker open, the metallic clang of the door hitting the locker next to hers masking the choked sob that escaped her lips before she could stop herself. Taking a deep breath, Anya composed her and dropped her books into the bottom of her locker and shut it quickly. She shook her head, clearing her eyes of tears and positioning a pleasant smile on her face again. Now was not the time. She would turn, walk down the hall to the bathroom, lock herself in a stall and, as long as no one else was there, she'd let herself cry for a few minutes. That was all she'd allow herself – just a few minutes. She wouldn't let her fear for her mother control her, not yet, not when there was still hope that there was nothing to be afraid for.

She could do this, even if no one else bothered to notice. She could do this all on her own.

As she turned to head toward the bathroom, she noticed two boys a little further down the hall at a locker on the opposite wall. The first, Adam Torres, flashed her a brief smile and looked away quickly, messing with the books in his locker nervously. Anya smiled back cheerily, as she always did, and turned the same smile on the boy standing next to Adam. Something…something Goldsworthy, Anya wasn't entirely sure of his first name, but knew that he sat at the back of her French class. He didn't smile back, but Anya felt his eyes on her as she continued past them to the bathroom. She tried not to blush. Obviously they had seen her throw her locker open, and had no doubt heard her ranting to herself, though they were too far away to have heard what she was really saying.

Oh well, she found herself thinking. With the number of fights, outbursts, and breakdowns she'd witnessed and heard about happening in the halls at Degrassi, her little locker slamming incident was nothing. So what if two boys she never talked to saw her? She was almost glad they had. It wasn't her job to be happy for everyone all the time, was it?

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in<strong>_** Chapter 2: Kiss, Kiss – **__Anya runs from her fears, Eli gets bitter about women, and the two share a moment._


	2. Kiss, Kiss

_**Chapter Two: **_**Kiss, Kiss**

Chantay picked her up at eight. If Anya had a say in the matter, she would've just stayed with Chantay after school, as home was really the last place she wanted to be, but Chantay said she had errands to run before the party. Anya's parents were trying to stay positive, following the motto they'd established for themselves the day her mom went to have the tests done to see if the cancer was back. "Until we know what to worry about, we simply won't worry." Until the tests were back, they wouldn't allow the fear to return.

It was all talk. They were all scared, for her mother as much as themselves, all worried that they were going to have to go through all this again, and that maybe they wouldn't get so lucky this time. Her mother's remission hadn't even been that long – could she really put her body through another round of radiation so soon?

Her house was tense with fear, but even worse than that it was tense with the energy spent trying to pretend the fear wasn't there. Her mother spent an excessive amount of time baking, offering to send Anya to the party with a fresh plate of cookies (the thought was too embarrassing to even consider). Her father worked a lot of overtime, but when he was home he just plain didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to spend all his time with his wife, clearly afraid that his time with her was winding down, but he didn't want her to think he was considering that thought, so he mostly spent his time running in and out of the kitchen getting snacks and drinks and stopping to inquire as to what her mother was baking, trying to act like it was all just casual, his waistline paying the price for his fear.

Anya, for her part, had spent a lot of time locking herself in her room. Looking at her mother in her apron and oven mitts, acting like nothing was happening, was just too much for her. Watching the look in her father's eyes as he watched his wife made her want to cry, and since crying meant she was worrying and worrying wasn't what they were doing, she just shut herself in her room and listened to happy, upbeat music and read her textbooks and waited for time to pass. She held friendly text conversations with Holly J, commiserating with her when each new Fiona crisis popped up, trying not to roll her eyes as she thought about how little Holly J understood of her life as she dumped all of this on her. Mostly, she waited. Waited to know the results. Waited to know how to feel. Waited for someone to recognize how stuck she was and offer to listen, without her having to ask them.

"That's what you're wearing?" Chantay said with raised eyebrows as Anya climbed into the passenger seat of Chantay's car. If Anya was the sort to make those snide comments, she would've said it about Chantay's ensemble instead, a sequin silver tank top and tight black mini skirt with strappy silver sandals.

Anya looked down at her own outfit, a loose, gauzy pink tank top over a tighter fitting black one and dark blue jeans. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's just so…boring. This is the party of the year, and you look like you're going grocery shopping."

Anya wrinkled her nose, and then smiled, mentally sorting out what Chantay would most want to hear in response. Always the people pleaser. "It's not the party of the year, only the party of the year _so far_ – I can't go all out tonight. I gotta save something for the _real_ biggest party of the year."

Chantay grinned at her. "I knew there was a reason I wanted to go with you, girl." With that, she pulled away from Anya's house, and Anya seized the opportunity to turn the radio up, grateful for Chantay's excited squeal that her 'jam' was playing, as then Anya would at least have a few minutes where she wouldn't have to make polite conversation.

Hillary Thomas didn't live far from Anya's house, only about five minutes driving. That was good to know, in case Anya needed to walk home later. They were still about a minute from the house when they started to hear the music in the air. Luckily for her, Hillary lived across the street from a small restaurant that had gone out of business about six months prior, meaning she had a ready-made parking area for all her guests. There were already a lot of cars in the lot, leaving Chantay to park in the empty spaces up against the restaurant, furthest from the street.

As they walked toward the house, Anya mentally prepared herself. This was what she needed. This would be good. For tonight, she'd forget she knew the word "cancer", that she even had a mother or a father or any sort of life outside of that party. Normal teenagers got to have fun and not worry about things. Check their worries at the door. And tonight, Anya would be one of them.

There was almost an overwhelming number of people in Hillary's living room, dancing and writhing around and doing whatever it is they thought was sexy, and Anya stayed closer to Chantay as she made a bee line for the kitchen. There, the brunette Anya recognized to be Hillary stood behind a keg with a few football players, watching people fill up their cups with beer and laughing, sipping out her own red plastic cup. Suddenly, Chantay was pushing a cup in Anya's hand and pulling her over to the kitchen counter, where rows of harder liquor were lined up. "Pick your poison," she said with a smile, reaching for a bottle toward the back. Anya just stared. She'd never really drank before – a few times her mother had allowed her a sip or two of some new kind of alcohol she'd gotten for herself, but she'd never been drunk. She didn't have anything against it, and right now drinking seemed like the quickest way to get into the mindset that nothing existed outside of Hillary Thomas' house, but still…she didn't have a clue what she was doing.

* * *

><p>As Eli turned down the street Adam had instructed him Hillary lived on, he noticed for what seemed like the hundredth time how sharp this car turned corners and cursed himself again for Morty's fate. Bullfrog hadn't been happy about helping him finance his new car, but had conceited since the alternative meant driving him around all the time himself.<p>

The new car wasn't bad. It was black, tinted windows, leather interior, and was constructed to have enough room instead that it didn't feel overly cramped compared to Morty. But still – it wasn't Morty. He hadn't even had the heart to name the car yet, because he still wasn't allowing himself to accept that Morty was gone. He had almost managed to convince himself Morty was just on vacation, this was just a rental, and his baby would be coming home.

"Here it is. You can pull into the old parking lot across the street, the business is closed," Adam said, pointing to a jam packed parking lot across from a house that was practically vibrating from the loud rap music playing inside it.

He parked close to the restaurant in one of the few remaining spots and he and Adam set off for the house. Upon entering, he could immediately tell this wasn't at all his idea of a good time. Not that he'd really expected to feel any differently, though. Guys and girls he recognized from the halls, few of whom he could actually identify by name, were tangled together all over the living room. Some were pressed against walls, making out as if their lives depended on it, and others groped each other on the makeshift 'dance floor'.

It wasn't as if Eli was some kind of prude, but nothing about watching people he barely knew have sex with their clothes on was particularly appealing to him. He followed Adam through the living room, trying to step as wide of everyone else as he could. They could barely enter the kitchen for the line stretching from the keg in the corner, but he and Adam took their place at the back of the line without really discussing it. Prior to arriving at the party, Eli hadn't really thought about whether or not he'd be drinking. He didn't see any reason not to. He'd drank lightly a few times before – Bullfrog enjoyed it when Eli sat down with him sometimes and shared a beer or two with him. He saw it as 'bonding'. And after Julia's funeral, he'd gotten completely trashed, which wasn't his favorite memory, but the point remained he wasn't any stranger to alcohol. So why not drink at this party? If he was going to Rome, shouldn't he do as the Romans do, so to speak?

* * *

><p>Hillary's house had a living room, where the dancing and true "partying" was happening, and a TV room, where more low-key people sat around on the couches and chairs, drinking and talking casually. The kitchen was occupied by football players and the cheerleaders, and the bedrooms were periodically occupied by couples looking for a little privacy.<p>

It was in the TV room that Eli sought refuge a couple hours later, sunk into Hillary's old leather couch, sipping slowly on his second beer of the night. Adam had stayed with him through the first beer, clearly nervous, constantly asking if Eli would be willing to go join the most festive area of the party. Of course, Eli wasn't interested, and after awhile Adam set off on his own, promising to be back shortly.

There were a few other people in the TV room that Eli knew from school, but none of them really paid him much attention. He didn't mind. Talking would have only distracted him from his thoughts and, at that moment, his thoughts all involved Clare. What would she say if she knew where he was right now? Clare Edwards, the girl who'd gone to private school when she was young and been raised by church-going parents, whose idea of being 'bad' was straight hair and red lipstick? He smiled in spite of himself, imagining the look of shock on her face if she saw him there. Of course, she'd say he was being self destructive, acting out because of the pain of losing her.

Wasn't he, though? Wasn't he only there because she wasn't? If she had wanted to spend time with him, wouldn't he drop everything to be with her?

Of course he would. But that, right there, was the whole problem. She didn't need someone who would drop everything to be with her. She had loved him best when he had been keeping her at a distance, not wanting to admit his feelings. Once he did, once he let her in and actually loved her the way he felt she deserved, she panicked that it was all too much, too suffocating.

Women were too much, he decided. You keep them at a distance, they chase you, desperate to win your affection to prove something to themselves about just how much they're worth. You let them in and give them that affection they wanted, and they run the other way, unable to handle it. They want to win, but they don't want to reap the rewards, not really.

He was distracted from his thoughts as someone made their way into the TV room. At first, he hoped it was Adam, but quickly noticed that the slim, unsteady girl who stumbled in was not Adam, but was in fact a girl from his French class. Anya MacPherson.

She was clearly worse for the wear. Upon entering the room, her hand gripped the doorway, the other hand clasping a red plastic cup, looking around at everyone in the room with blurry eyes, smudged mascara underneath. Her hair was rumpled in the back, and her clothes were disheveled, one of her shirts falling off her right shoulder. Still, she was undeniably beautiful.

Eli knew of her because they shared a class, but he was pretty sure they had never actually talked before. She was just another pretty face, another girl who he happened to go to school with. If Eli was looking to expand his group of friends, he had to admit Anya would probably be one of the last people he'd talk to. She was always so…bubbly. It wasn't a bad thing, Eli didn't have anything against someone who enjoyed being happy. But happiness was exactly his personal forte, so they just didn't seem to be each other's sort of people.

They ran in different social circles. He was an outcast, a social pariah, and she was right there with the beautiful people, the in-crowd, the Holly J's and Fiona's of the world.

Anya's eyes scanned the room and then she nodded to herself, stumbling in Eli's direction. Confused, Eli also looked around the room. He was the only one alone, the only one not already talking to someone, so really he was the natural choice if she didn't want to intrude or interrupt anything.

"_Bonjour_," she said cheerily, flashing him a lopsided smile as she sank onto the couch beside him. The middle of her word dragged a little long as she slurred her way through it, almost as if she wasn't going to be able to make her tongue create the word.

Considering this was really the first time they'd ever actually spoken, Eli couldn't help but feel that she'd sat a little closer than she would have without the alcohol. They weren't touching, but there was barely a breath between their legs. If Eli had moved at all, his thigh would end up brushing against hers. Anya set her cup down on the coffee table in front of them, and turned her face toward Eli. "So what brings you here, Oh Dark and Mysterious One?"

Her breath smelled of alcohol, but she had obviously opted for girly drinks over traditional beer, so there was a hint of fruity sweetness to the smell. "Is that what you people call me these days?" Eli asked, shifting a little in his seat away from Anya.

"'You people'? What people?"

Eli shrugged. "The popular crowd. The gossipers. The…."

"…partygoers?" She giggled at this, her head dropping forward and hair falling to cover her eyes. He could tell the point she was trying to make – he couldn't argue that he was so different from her at the moment, being where he was.

"Touche."

Anya looked up at him. "No one calls you that. It just seemed fitting. Particularly the…the mysterious part."

"Why's that?"

"You're here, aren't you? That certainly seems like a mystery to me."

Eli didn't answer right away. He looked down, concentrating on his finger running along the edge of his cup of beer, unsure of exactly what he could say. This wasn't the sort of situation he'd been expecting, and she certainly wasn't someone he expected to be talking to. What were the rules here? She was a nice girl, but how much could he really say to her? How much did he even _want_ to say to her? If he tried to explain why he was at this party, wouldn't it be like opening himself up to everyone? She was one of the popular girls, and anything told to her was told to the world, wasn't it? "I just…" he started, stumbling over his next words before simply saying, "I figured what I was doing hadn't been working out that well, so maybe it was time to try something new."

When Anya didn't respond, he looked up at her. She was watching him carefully, a sad smile on her face, her body swaying slightly. She was clearly trying hard to concentrate on him despite how her head must have been swimming from the alcohol. "You miss her, don't you?"

The odd thing was, Clare wasn't the only one who flashed in his mind when she said that. There was Julia, too. They were both there, both there in his mind and his heart because neither of them were really there anymore. And wasn't it really for the same reason? He hadn't changed much in the way he'd cared for either of them. He wanted them, they wanted out, and in the end they'd both gotten their way. He looked away from Anya, as if she'd be able to see the girls reflected in his eyes. She may be being nice, but she didn't need to know the whole story. "Every day," he finally whispered, not even sure who was referring to. Maybe the both of them.

Another awkward silence. He could hear her breathing next to him, but didn't look back. What could she possibly say? She didn't know him, didn't know half of what he really felt. All she could do was offer some standard, nice person response like "It'll get better" or "Everything happens for a reason". Bullshit.

Her weight shifted next to him, and he instinctually turned his head her way. In that moment, she leaned forward, and before Eli had registered what was happening, her lips were pressed against his.

Maybe it was only the alcohol, maybe it was something else, but there on her impossibly soft lips was that hint of coconut he hadn't tasted since before Julia died, the taste he'd dreamed about. And suddenly, it stopped mattering why he was at the party, what he was trying to escape, the people he wished he could forget. Because here was this girl, and here were her lips, and there they were kissing, and it was new, it was different…but boy, was it _good._

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 3: Blame It on the Alcohol –**__ Things get a little steamy, a cooler head prevails, and Anya weighs in on the situation. _


	3. Blame It on the Alcohol

_**Chapter Three: **_**Blame It on the Alcohol **

Eli responded to her kisses, his hands sliding onto the top of Anya's thighs. It wasn't the most romantic move he'd ever come up with, but he was still stuck on the fact that Anya MacPherson, of all people, had kissed him. _Was_ kissing him, right at that moment.

Her kisses became more urgent, she leaned in closer to him, and before Eli knew it she shifted, swinging one of her legs over his and positioning herself so she was straddling him, sitting on his lap. He slid a little lower on the couch to make her more comfortable, his hands sliding around to her back, slipping under her shirt. They kept kissing, their tongues exploring each other mouths. The kisses were soft, but insistent. One of Anya's hands was splayed across his chest, almost as if holding him in place, and the other was tangling itself in his hair.

He thought of the others in the room just then, wondered if any of them were noticing what was going on. Anya's hair had fallen over him from her position over him so he couldn't have tried to look at him if he wanted to, but at the same time, he doubted any of them really saw. Anya may have been one of the popular few, but he was such a nobody it was probably contagious. By connecting herself to him, she had probably disappeared the same way he did in a crowd. Maybe that was the point of her doing this – maybe she was looking to disappear.

Eli hadn't thought much about it, but he had seen her that day during lunch, when he and Adam had left the cafeteria early. She'd come storming down the hall, looking as if she was about to explode. She'd thrown her locker open, and he'd seen the way she'd started to cry but caught herself. Then she'd passed them in the hall and smiled so pleasantly at them, Eli had brushed the whole situation off. Maybe she'd been upset by some cheerleading thing, or some boy drama that didn't really mean anything. She'd been fine in French, though he had noticed she'd taken the time to seek him out and send him an extra smile that day. Was she trying to cover? She knew he had seen her. Was she only making sure that he, again, understood she was fine, beaming even, so he wouldn't know something was wrong?

If something was wrong, maybe that's why she was doing all this. She may have been popular, but there were never rumors around school about her drunken escapades. He'd heard rumors before about how she was willing to convert religions for her old boyfriend, which hardly screamed "party girl". And she hadn't had other boyfriends besides Sav, so she certainly didn't seem to be the type to make out with random almost-strangers at parties.

She pulled back, blinking at him with her big, beautiful eyes. "Is something wrong?"

Eli shifted nervously, suddenly aware of every inch of contact between them. "Uhh…yeah," he admitted. He didn't want to make eye contact, but it seemed anywhere else he looked, there was some part of her, and it was some part he really shouldn't be staring at.

"You aren't enjoying this?" She sounded breathless, surprised, almost…hurt?

"It's…it's not that." It was hard for him to talk. He was fighting a war in himself, wanting to keep kissing her but knowing he had to stop. It was in the way she'd asked if something was wrong, in the way she'd slurred her words. She was drunk. He wasn't. He had no idea how much she'd drank, but it was clearly more than he had, and it was enough that he couldn't condone doing anything with her in this condition. He wouldn't be that guy.

She grinned, and leaned forward. Eli's breath hitched in his throat as her lips found his neck, kissing and licking softly. He may have made a noise, and he definitely squirmed underneath her as her fingers pulled back the neck of his shirt and she nipped softly at his collarbone. His head tipped back instinctually, and he felt them both shift, their hips sliding together.

His hand came up, and he rubbed it over his face, trying to keep himself on task. He couldn't let this happen. His head knew that, even if his body didn't seem to understand.

"Anya," he breathed, placing his hands on her shoulders in a bracing way.

"I could make you forget you miss her," she whispered, looking up at him, her face so close to his. And in that moment, he knew she could, but that wasn't the point.

"Not now," he insisted, swallowing hard. "Not like this."

She sat up straighter, looking around. "We could go somewhere more private if you'd like."

He clenched his hands into fists, and found himself biting his hand to keep from agreeing. "That's not what I meant."

She froze, blinked at him a few times, and then moved off his lap, retreating from him as if she'd just been burned. He straightened up then, turning toward her. The air was a little less hot now that she was further away, though, and the words seemed to come easier. "Look, that was…_wow_. And you're…well, look at you, you're amazing looking and all, but…I can't be the kind of guy who takes advantage of girls who have been drinking. That makes me just like every guy I've ever despised."

Anya raised an eyebrow. "I'm not drunk."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"It doesn't matter! I'm not drunk and I can make my own decisions." Her voice was raised, angry, and Eli noticed that the few people who were still in the room seemed to be inching out, casting scandalized glances at them on their way out. They had effectively cleared the room out with their escapades.

"Why is this the decision you're making, anyway? What's the sudden interest in me, MacPherson?"

She bit her lip, looked over at her cup, then back at him. "That's an excellent question, Goldsworthy." Her voice sounded like pure ice, much colder than he'd ever heard her sound before. She stood and moved to grab her cup, but her hand hit the side of it and knocked it over instead, splashing her drink all across the coffee table. "Perfect," she muttered, and although Eli couldn't see her face from his position behind her on the couch, he could hear the tears in her voice.

"Anya –" he started. This wasn't what he wanted. He was trying to be the good guy, trying to keep them both from doing something that could only lead to trouble for everyone, and now she was upset.

"No," she said quickly, cutting him off. "Everything's fine. I'm fine, you're fine, and we're just…not going to do this. So leave me alone." She didn't look back, and took off for the door.

* * *

><p>It was official – Anya was going insane. The stress of being everyone else's support line was getting to her, and she was finally cracking.<p>

How else could she explain what happened Friday night? She had gotten drunk and made out with a boy whose first name she didn't even know – two actions so very un-Anya-like that she couldn't even wrap her head around them. She was, in a word, mortified. She was mortified it had all happened, but even more so than that, she was mortified by how much she had enjoyed it.

Because she had. Oh, she had enjoyed it. He had fuller lips than any boy she'd ever kissed before, and kissing them almost felt like she was exploring. Most guys you kissed, you got their whole lips in one kiss, simple as that – but this boy had angles, different ways to kiss, because she couldn't quite capture his whole mouth with one kiss. He was a little scrawny, but in a way Anya found herself liking. It surprised her, though, because as she had pressed herself against him, she'd felt a firmness to his chest she hadn't been expecting – he wasn't muscular, but he certainly wasn't weak. He was almost like a mattress – not super soft, but not rock hard either. His kisses were much the same way – soft enough that they felt almost romantic, but firm enough to make her skin tingle with desire. She'd even loved the jewelry he wore, the way the cool metal of his rings had felt against her back when his hands had snaked their way into her shirt.

But why this boy? She'd seen him all year, in French, but they'd never spoke, never dealt with each other in any capacity, and yet when she'd seen him at the party that night, she'd gone right for him. She'd asked him why he was at the party, and to be fair, she _was_ curious. She may not have gone to parties that often herself, but for a boy like him that seemed to do everything he could to be exactly opposite of mainstream, it seemed particularly odd. He'd said he thought it was time he try something new, and he looked so sad when he said it. Anya knew that look – the kind of look full of self-loathing. The look that said "if I had only done differently, I wouldn't be in the position I am now".

It was then she remembered Clare Edwards. She never really talked to her, either, but she remembered what had happened the night of the dance, how the story was that he had crashed his car because Clare had gone to the dance without him and she'd broken up with him at the hospital. Anya had to admit the story didn't exactly place him in the best light, but it wasn't all that long ago that she faked a pregnancy and lied to her boyfriend, so she was willing to believe there was probably a lot more to the story and he probably wasn't as crazy as people wanted to believe. That was the trouble with stories that went around school – they never got the motivating factors right, only what happened as a result, so you never really understood why things happened the way they did. An innocent or rational action became a horror story.

So she'd asked him if he missed Clare, though looking back, that was definitely a question brought on by the alcohol. She knew better. That question was rude and intrusive and not something she would have said normally. But that was really only the start of things she wouldn't have done normally, wasn't it? As soon as she said it, she'd wanted to take it back, because the pain that crossed his face in that moment was so…intense. Almost too much, like it couldn't possibly all be for a breakup of a relationship that Anya couldn't even remember lasting that long. He'd looked away, and Anya just felt so sorry for bringing it up. Through the alcohol that was clouding her mind, the only thing she knew was that she had to make him feel better, to do what she always did and fix the situation.

However, apparently when drunk, 'fixing the situation' didn't mean lending a sympathetic ear, but instead meant climbing on top of him and sucking on his collarbone while he writhed underneath her. That was a new one.

She'd been so embarrassed by the whole thing that she'd faked sick the next day when Holly J called her about going shopping. Holly J had made some crack about her being hungover, and though she did have a headache, that had nothing to do with it. But she couldn't explain that to Holly J of all people, who would find her public display of affection for one of the strangest boys in Degrassi akin to social suicide.

"Feeling better now, are we?" Holly J asked when Anya met her at her locker on Monday morning. Anya closed her eyes to keep from rolling them at her, and smiled cheerily.

"Yup. Sorry I had to cancel on you, but my mom gave me a stomach bug – my dad and I both got it. It wasn't pretty." It was a lie, but it was seeded in truth. Her mother had been throwing up all weekend, and had insisted it was only a stomach bug, but Anya was pretty sure it was the stress of her situation.

Holly J raised an eyebrow at her as the two headed down the hallway. "If you say so." They walked along, Holly J filling her in about the meltdown Fiona had during lunch on Saturday, Anya nodding along when appropriate, when she heard her name being called.

It was him. Goldsworthy. He was coming at her down the hall, and Anya found her mouth dropping open in surprise. She and Holly J both stopped in their tracks, Holly J looking between them in surprise. "Can we talk?" he asked when he reached them. His expression was almost blank, except for a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He wasn't really enjoying this, was he?

"Is everything okay?" Holly J asked, reading the look of trepidation on Anya's face.

"Yeah!" Anya said, the word coming out an octave higher than she intended. She smiled at Holly J, "Just some stuff for French. Group project, you know. You go on ahead, I'll meet you in homeroom." Holly J hesitated, looking at her carefully, but Anya kept her smile in place until she left.

Once she was gone, she turned her attention back to Goldsworthy, who hadn't taken his eyes off her the whole time. "Outside," she said quickly, turning and heading for the courtyard. She didn't stop to see if he followed, but could hear him behind her and knew he had.

Outside, she sat down on the nearest bench and looked up at him, smile gone. "What's wrong? Did you have a question about the French exam from Friday?" She would play dumb. She would pretend she had no idea why he'd want to talk to her, and maybe he'd just forget it ever happened. She had been drunk, maybe he'd just think she really didn't know.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, squinting at her in disbelief. "No, not exactly." Determined not to give up on her plan, Anya just blinked at him. "It is about Friday though."

Anya sighed, thinking fast. "Umm…oh, this is embarrassing, isn't it?" His lips parted, thinking she was finally letting on to what really happened, but Anya continued, "It's about what happened at lunch, right?" Again, he went to speak, but she decided not to let him. "Look, I'm really embarrassed you and your friend had to see that. I'm not usually like that, I just got really overwhelmed. Armstrong gave a killer math test that day, and then we had the French exam later…I was just really overwhelmed and I had my little moment and I didn't realize you guys were there so I am really very sorry and it's really embarrassing."

She was rambling and paused to take a breath, watching as his expression became even more confused. "That wasn't –"

"Look, umm…" she hesitated, but there was something she needed to know to resolve the whole kissing situation in her mind, to restore her self-esteem even a little, "this is even more embarrassing, considering you've watched me have a total freakout moment and I…don't even, umm…I don't even know your first name."

His eyebrows disappeared into his hair. "You don't know my name?"

"Well, I know your last name is Goldsworthy because of French, but…no, I don't know your first name." She kept her voice steady. She not sound as embarrassed as she should be to admit this, because she had nothing to really be embarrassed about. She knew nothing about what happened Friday.

He didn't reply right away, and the way he shook his head told Anya they were both now plainly aware of the same fact, even if she wouldn't allow herself to admit it to him – she had made out with a boy without even knowing his name. Was there a textbook definition for what made a girl loose or slutty? Because Anya imagined this situation factored into the definition somewhere. "Eli," he finally said, then shrugged. "Technically, Elijah, but..Eli."

Nice name, Anya thought. It fit him well. She stood up and extended her hand, smiling warmly. "Well, you obviously know my name, but we've never been properly introduced so…hi, Eli. I'm Anya."

He stared at her hand, then into her eyes, as if he couldn't believe she was doing this. To be honest, she couldn't believe she was, either. But she was going to do it. Because the only thing more embarrassing than being the girl who made out with a boy she didn't know and forgot about it was being the girl who made out with a boy only to be rejected and then forced to suffer through his awkward apology for turning her down. This was what was best. He was clearly a nice boy, wanting to make it okay that he had rejected her when she'd thrown herself at him, and at least if he thought she forgot he wouldn't have to feel bad anymore.

"I have to go to class, and I'm sure you do too," Anya finally said, letting her hand fall to her side when Eli didn't take it.

"Right," Eli said, still looking confused.

Anya took a step forward, looking Eli in the eye. "You're a really sweet guy, Eli. It was really nice of you to come find me to see if I was okay after Friday. I appreciate it. But I had a lot of time to catch up on sleep and relax this weekend, and I am feeling much, much better. So thank you, but no worries here. I'm great now. So umm…I gotta go, but you have a great day, and I'll see you in French?"

Eli didn't seem to want to let her leave without discussing Friday night, but if she had to go to her grave with it, she would never admit she knew what happened. If he said it, she'd say he was wrong, that she didn't even go to the party. Whatever it took. She would not stand there and listen to him come up with some nice story as to why he didn't want her. She would have her dignity, one way or another. She kept eye contact with him, knowing her eyes probably looked a little pleading, begging him to just go along with her version of reality. "Yeah," he finally said, his voice deflated, "I'll see you in French."

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 4: Unwell –**_ _Anya gets bad news, Sav and Holly J's best intentions backfire, and Eli offers a helping hand._

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your reviews, everyone! I'm so glad to see people are enjoying this story. :) I've got most of the plot for this story already worked out, and I'm currently writing Chapter 5, so expect some more updates soon. Thank you again for your kind words and for taking the time to read this!


	4. Unwell

_**Chapter Four: **_**Unwell**

It had been a couple of weeks since Hillary's party, and in that time, Eli hadn't spoken to Anya once following their awkward exchange Monday morning. He had obviously made the right decision in turning her down that night, as she was too drunk to even remember they'd kissed at all. She had just thought he was worried about her outburst in the hallway, an event he had brushed off as meaningless. But he was beginning to think that maybe there was more to it, if she thought it was important enough that he'd be concerned about it.

Either way, though, he'd mostly driven any thoughts about Anya MacPherson from his head until the day she was late for French. It was only by five minutes, but it was enough that all eyes turned her way when she entered. She flashed a brief smile and apology to the teacher, and hurried to her desk. Once her back was turned to the teacher, Eli caught a glimpse of her face. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were glassy – she had clearly been very upset just before coming to class.

He found himself paying attention to her throughout the class period. She didn't look up and seemed to taking very few notes, and kept wiping at her eyes when she thought no one was looking. Finally, with half the class period left to go, she seized her opportunity when the teacher stopped talking to hand back some papers to leave class entirely.

Eli knew he shouldn't care. What concern of it was his if some girl he barely even knew was upset? Sure, they'd made out, but knowing what someone's tongue tasted like didn't entitle him to pry into the rest of their life. Anya's business was hers. Whatever connection Eli had with her, she didn't even remember, so what place did he have to get involved?

Still…French was boring anyway, and he was hardly a model student, so…what could be the harm in making sure she didn't just need someone to talk to?

* * *

><p>"Hey Anya, wait up!"<p>

Anya's shoulders sagged at the familiar voice. She turned, raising her eyebrows and praying she didn't look like the disaster she felt like. "What is it, Sav?"

"Shouldn't you be in class?" He asked, coming up to her. They were standing right in the middle of the empty hallway, and Anya felt exposed, as if all her emotions and secrets were screaming at her from every locker.

"Shouldn't you?" Her cheeks felt hot and she knew her eyes were wet with tears she'd been trying all class period not to cry, and the last thing she needed right now was to talk to Sav. They were on friendly terms now, especially after the whole thing with Holly J, but an ex is an ex, and today was not the day for dealing with one.

"Got the period off to work on student government stuff, and it took less time than I expected."

"Oh." She knew he expected her to tell him why she wasn't in class, but she really couldn't be bothered to come up with a story. The truth was, she just couldn't stand to sit in class today. She'd missed almost the whole day already because she'd gone to the oncologist with her mother. Her mother's tests had been slow to come in – some mix-up at the lab that was an accident, but had driven her whole family crazy for an extra week. And today, they'd gotten the news – her cancer was back.

Her mother tried to be positive, telling her it was a good thing they'd caught it so early, that although it wasn't good news, it was better than it would've been if they'd tried to ignore it. Anya had smiled and agreed and asked to go back to school so she wouldn't miss French, but really she had just wanted to escape it. She wasn't ready to face the news. She was trying so hard to pretend the word "cancer" was some word in a foreign language, a word she didn't understand the meaning of. Okay, her mom had cancer. But as long as she didn't allow herself to know what cancer was, maybe it wouldn't have to hurt. Not yet. Not here.

Sav waited awhile for an explanation, and when the awkward silence grew to be too much, finally asked, "Can we talk?"

She sighed. "What about?"

He looked down at his foot, which was tracing the outline of the tiles on the floor. He was uncomfortable. "I've been hearing some stories lately."

"About what? Sav, just spit it out."

Their eyes met. "People have been saying you've been partying a lot lately."

"So what? Plenty of high schoolers party, Sav. It's not exactly out of the ordinary."

"But you never did it before. And people are saying you're going out two or three times a week."

"For the past couple weeks! I'm not exactly making a lifestyle out of it. Why does it matter anyway?"

His face hardened. "You're friends with Fiona, Anya. You know what can happen."

A burst of laughter escaped her throat before she could stop herself. "Fiona had to drink just to be able to go to school in the morning. She drank all day, every day. She had a problem. A teenager going out a couple nights a week and having some drinks with friends is not a problem, it's normal teenage behavior!"

"It's not normal Anya behavior." Sav stepped closer, but Anya took a step back. This was not what she needed right now, not with the news she'd gotten that morning. She knew Sav meant well, but couldn't he just leave her alone? Why, in the one moment she wanted so badly to escape, did he have to decide to come in and start caring? "Anya, I'm worried about you."

"Why? I'm fine."

"You're acting different now, and I'm not the only one that's noticed. Holly J –"

"Oh, what, so you two are talking about me now? God, Sav! What about everyone else at these parties? I don't see anyone confronting them in the hallway about it."

"I don't care about any of those other people, I care about you!"

Anya froze. "Since when?" She knew it was a horrible thing to say, but she'd had about all she could take. Sav didn't know anything, and neither did Holly J. Sure, she went out and drank a lot now. But what else did she have? She still hadn't been able to tell anyone about the cancer, all the fear she'd felt about it in the past weeks, and she just needed a way to let go. She was careful, and she drank in moderation – most nights. She just needed to not be able to think so much, and the alcohol and the party atmosphere let her do that.

Sav looked hurt. "I've always cared about you, Anya, you know that."

"You've had a pretty funny way of showing it."

"I don't need this," Sav snapped. "I just wanted you to know that if you needed a friend, I'm here."

"No, you're not!" Anya shouted back. She hadn't exactly looked at where he'd stopped her to talk, and right now the tears in her eyes were clouding her vision too much to tell, but she hoped no classes could overhear them. Public humiliation was the last thing she needed. "You aren't there for me. Okay? No one is. And I don't need anyone to be. Because there's nothing wrong! I should be allowed to go out and have a good time, without having to answer to you or anyone else."

Sav shook his head. "You're right. You can do what you want. But are you really sure nothing's wrong?"

Anya considered telling him. In that moment, she considered screaming at him, telling him about how her world was falling apart and no one had bothered to notice. Maybe it'd make him feel bad, it'd justify her behavior. But then she reconsidered, wiped her eyes, and smiled. She would continue to play the role she'd set for herself. It wasn't Sav's fault she chose to keep quiet, he didn't deserve to pay the price for her putting the pressure on herself. "Everything's perfect, Sav. And I'm really sorry that I just snapped at you like that. I just hope you can understand how hard it is for me to…to hear you say you care about me, after everything we've been through."

His expression softened. "I know, but…I was only being honest."

"I know you were," she said quietly, trying to smile wider. "And I care about you, too. I'm just not doing so well in my classes right now and I'm really stressed and the partying is a way to get my mind off it. But you're right, it might be a little out of control and better safe than sorry so…I'll cut back. Okay?"

"Okay," he said, smiling softly. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Of course you don't," she said, "you're a great guy. But if you'll excuse me, I need to get going back to class. So good luck with your government stuff, and…thanks again for caring." Without waiting for a response, Anya spun on her heel and took off in the opposite direction of her classroom.

* * *

><p>Eli didn't typically think of himself as a cowardly person. He stood up for himself, he went after what he wanted, he didn't shy away from things. But he had most definitely chickened out after watching Anya yell at Sav in the hallway. He'd known she wasn't going back to class, and had considered following to talk to her, but what exactly was he supposed to say? He'd probably only make it worse. Clearly, something was wrong, but if she wouldn't even talk to someone she actually <em>knew<em> she had a history with, she certainly wouldn't confide in a boy she didn't even remember. So he'd turned around and gone back to class, deciding the best way to help would be to take some good notes on verb conjugation he could offer to give her later.

It didn't escape Eli's attention that he was only noticing Anya now because, in some way, she was venturing to the 'dark side'. When she was all sunshine and smiles and cheerleading, she'd barely been a blip on his radar. But watching her struggle not to fall apart was captivating him, consuming his thoughts, his instincts all screaming for him to step in, to do _something_ to help her. Was it because he was constantly looking for that misery in others, or was it because seeing her this way finally made her human?

The popular people, people like her and Holly J and everyone else…they never seemed human to him. Sure, he'd heard the rumors, he knew they had problems too – but they never showed it. He didn't understand the people who could be in such pain and not let it affect them in some way. And that was how Anya had always seemed before. It was clear she wasn't getting the kind of support or help she needed from her friends, so maybe she needed someone else, someone who prided himself on being an expert in gloominess. She had has spent so much time always trying to be happy for everyone else, and maybe what she needed was someone who was so good at being sad he didn't anyone to be happy for him. Someone who was comfortable with misery.

He knew where she'd be that night, even though nobody told him. Josh Hunter's beach party. The party was such a major one that even Miss Holly J Sinclair was expected to attend, despite her recent anti-alcohol stance. You didn't have to be invited to attend this party, but Eli knew his place in the social culture of the school to know he wouldn't exactly be encouraged to attend.

Still, he took his chances, and after the sun set that night, he left his house and headed for the beach. The party was fully underway by the time he arrived, and it wasn't hard for Eli to blend into the crowds of people. Compared to Hillary's party, Josh's was much more low-key. If he was the sort to care about parties, this was the kind of party he'd want to attend. The dancing was still sexual, but in the open air there was more space and much less grinding. The fire they had built in the middle of the beach cast a soft glow on everyone – it was almost beautiful there, apart from the smell of booze and the poor choice in music.

He noticed Anya across the fire, dancing by herself. Holly J sat nearby on a log, watching her out of the corner of her eye and looking seriously uncomfortable. There were several guys watching Anya, but she was moving to her own rhythm and none of the guys seemed courageous enough to approach her.

Well, Eli thought, he never _did_ think of himself as cowardly….

She spotted him before he could say anything, and immediately stopped dancing, though she stopped in a position that left her off balance. She stumbled a little, and Holly J jumped up to steady her. "Eli!" Anya squealed.

Holly J looked at him, still gripping Anya's elbow. "Are you two friends?" The look on her face was one of confusion and mounting suspicion – him approaching Anya was becoming a pattern, one she didn't understand and, it appeared, didn't approve of.

Eli bit his lip, unsure of what would be the best answer to the question. Before he could answer, Anya shook her head emphatically, swallowing. "No, no…but Holly J, he –" she was clearly drunk, having difficulty figuring out her words. She grabbed onto Holly J to get her full attention and leaned forward, saying in a loud voice what she clearly meant to whisper. "—he is the _best_ kisser!"

Holly J's mouth fell open, and she turned accusing eyes back toward Eli. "You're the best _what_?"

"Opps," Anya said, laughing and covering her mouth, eyes wide. "I was pretending I didn't remember, wasn't I? Shit. Umm…any chance we can all forget I said that?"

"I don't think so, Anya," Holly J said, looking between her and Eli as if she couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"You should really kiss him sometime, Holly J," Anya breathed, pointing in what he supposed was meant to be his direction. "He'll probably actually let you. He stopped me, I…I was too easy, I think. But you, Holly J, you're a challenge."

Holly J's mouth hadn't shut since Anya had referred to him as the best kisser, and if possible, it fell open even wider. "I'm not going to kiss Eli, Anya. You know what? I'm getting kind of thirsty. Would you mind going to get me a drink?"

Anya's face lit up. "You're gonna drink with me?"

"Absolutely," Holly J said, with the fakest enthusiasm Eli had ever heard. "I just need you to go get it for me." Anya nodded happily and stumbled off to the area down the beach where the drinks were.

Eli considered leaving then, perhaps even following Anya, but Holly J rounded on him before he could. "Why were you kissing my best friend?"

He took a step back, holding his hands up. "She kissed me. But it doesn't matter. She was drunk, I stopped her because she didn't know what she was doing and that wouldn't be right."

"Well good," Holly J said defensively, "because the last thing Anya needs is someone like you taking advantage of her."

"Someone like _me_?"

"That came out wrong," Holly J sighed. "I just meant someone like…anyone, taking advantage of her. She's a good girl and she deserves someone who's going to be kind to her."

Fantastic. Holly J thought he was there to see what else he could get out of her. She probably thought he'd regretted his earlier decision to call her off, and was hoping he'd get a second chance. He couldn't help but find it a little rich that Holly J was lecturing him on what Anya needed, when she clearly didn't have a clue the kind of struggle her friend was going through. Eli seemed to be the only one to see it. Why else was he there to help her, when someone like Holly J was there just to watch her self destruct?

"Not that I owe you an explanation," he started, "but I saw her and Sav get in a fight at school today, and I figured she'd be here, so I thought I'd come to make sure she didn't get out of hand and had a way to get home."

"I'm taking her home," Holly J supplied. "And she's perfectly fine. That fight with Sav was nothing. It's just…Anya."

Eli's eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean by that?"

Holly J looked quickly over her shoulder and then stepped closer to Eli, dropping her voice. "It just means…look, Anya can be a little dramatic sometimes. She tries really hard to be happy and on top of things, and sometimes she sort of snaps and goes the other way and gets intense about stuff. And then she makes strange decisions like deciding to get completely bombed at a beach party, and as her friend, I know how to handle that. You let her do it, but you stay with her. So you're there to protect her, but she still does what she wants, and when she wakes up in the morning she realizes what a dumb idea it was and comes back down to earth."

Eli stared at her. She really thought she was being the good, supportive friend. She thought whatever was going on with Anya was just some phase, some occasional outburst that meant nothing in the long run, and could be cured by the punishment of a hangover in the morning. Like she'd feel horrible enough in the morning that she'd just fall back in line and start being her old self again. Stop being a problem. "For her sake, I hope you're right," Eli said, keeping his voice steady. "But in case you're wrong, and her problem isn't that easy to fix, I thought Anya should know you weren't her only way out of here tonight."

"That's very sweet of you," Holly J said, flashing him a fake smile, "but it won't be necessary."

"I want to go with Eli." Eli and Holly J both turned at the same time. Anya was standing to his left, holding a cup and looking at Holly J as if she'd just been slapped.

"Anya…" Holly J started.

"Save it, Holly J," Anya said, looking to Eli. "You still willing to take me home?" Her voice was cold now, all the drunken exuberance it'd held just moments prior gone.

"Absolutely," Eli said, backing away from Holly J.

"Anya, he's…you shouldn't be going anywhere with a guy right now."

Anya looked to Eli, desperation in her eyes. He could tell what she wanted – for him to get her out of there. She wanted nothing more than a car ride, and neither did he, but he could tell she didn't understand that. She thought he wanted to take advantage of her, and the look in her eyes was begging him to reconsider, just so she could go with him and get out of there.

"You have nothing to worry about," Eli said, speaking to the both of them but looking at Holly J. "I'm not interested in doing anything with Anya. Besides, haven't you heard? I'm all _crazy_ obsessed with Clare Edwards…why'd I be going after Anya?" He made a wild gesture with his hands to accentuate the word 'crazy', and the look Holly J gave him confirmed what he already knew – she'd heard the story about Morty, and clearly thought crazy over Clare was exactly what he was.

As he turned and walked back to his car with Anya (a process that was decidedly slower than it would have been if he was alone, as Anya kept stumbling), he realized that until that he'd brought up her name to assuage Holly J's fears, he hadn't even thought of Clare once since French, when Anya had taken center stage in his thoughts. It was the longest he'd gone since they'd broken up not thinking of her, and he noted with satisfaction that he was almost proud of himself.

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 5: Don't Worry, Be Happy**__ – Eli and Anya talk, Anya puts herself back in place, and Eli gets a little flirty._

**A/N:** Once again, thank you all SO much for your reviews! You guys are the greatest, and so encouraging! :) I started working on Chapter 7 this morning, and I'm really excited about where the story's at. And I'm looking forward to what's coming after even more. :) I only hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do. Thank you again for all your encouragement!


	5. Don't Worry, Be Happy

_**Chapter Five: **_**Don't Worry, Be Happy**

She'd thanked him for holding her door open for her, and it occurred to Eli as he went around the car to get in the driver's seat that Anya was the first girl he'd had in his car since Clare. And really, she was the first girl to be in _this_ car at all. It felt strange, like so many of the things with Clare did after Julia. Like each new thing he did with a new girl was another step away from what they had, another nail in the coffin of their relationship. He pushed those thoughts from his mind, knowing he'd stop what he was doing if he let those thoughts continue. This was different. He was helping someone, not moving on.

"Do you think you'll be able to tell me where you live?" he asked as he buckled in.

She nodded and told him the address. Eli pulled out of the parking lot, and they drove in silence most of the way, Anya occasionally playing with the dials on his radio, but not seeming to care what music came on. He cracked the windows in the car to get her some fresh air, and she seemed to be sobering up to a more coherent level. When they arrived at her house, he parked in the street. Anya looked out the window at her house, and instantly bent forward, covering her face with her hands.

At first, Eli thought she was going to throw up, an event he had been anticipating but not at all looking forward to. He glanced around wildly, hoping he had something she could throw up into, but then he realized she wasn't getting sick. Her shoulders were shaking, and as he turned the radio down, he could make out the sound of muffled sobs coming through her hands. She was crying, and crying hard.

"Anya –" he whispered, reaching out his hand and touching her shoulder.

She stiffened slightly, but Eli didn't pull his hand back. His fingertips were so close to a lock of hair that had fallen over her shoulder, and he wanted to touch it, sweep it back, but he kept his hand still. She moved her hands down her face, taking a shaky breath, but didn't look over at Eli. "I can't handle this."

Her voice was so quiet, Eli wasn't even sure he was supposed to hear her. "Sure you can," he finally said, letting his hand slip from her shoulder. His arm was starting to hurt from the tension of holding it there, and now that she was talking, it just felt too awkward to leave it there.

She let out a bitter laugh. "Everyone always says that. And you're probably right…one way or another, I can handle it. But…it's just too hard to figure out how. It's too much."

He knew exactly what she meant. How many times had he wanted to give up? To just say he couldn't handle it, he was out, forget whatever anyone else wanted. Whether he could handle it or not, he wasn't _going_ to, because trying to find a way to cope until it got easier was just too hard. It wasn't that anything in life was so insurmountable; you were never actually given more than you could handle, but sometimes it just seemed like too much work to figure out _how_ to handle it.

But there's a difference between understanding someone's feelings, and knowing what you were supposed to say to make it better. Sure, Eli had felt that way before, but what had he expected someone to say to make it better when he did? Anything they said would've only made him angrier. Hadn't he just felt that way about Anya a couple weeks ago? That her trying to tell him it'd be okay or things happen for a reason would only make him angry? He'd be a hypocrite if he tried to offer her the same advice now.

She ran a shaking hand through her hair, sitting up straighter in her seat and turning to face Eli. She had mascara smudged all over under her eyes, but if possible, the black smudges just made her blue eyes stand out all the more. She really was beautiful, but Eli's favorite part was that he could tell she didn't even understand half of how beautiful she really was. "Why are you doing this?"

It wasn't accusatory, but Eli still felt as if he'd been stung. "Doing…what?"

"Helping me. You don't even know me, yet you come to a party you think I might be at just to offer me a ride home."

He could hear how that sounded. It sound crazy, stalker-ish…just like everything else he did. He gripped the steering wheel, suddenly frustrated. He'd been trying to help, and now she must have thought he was completely insane. "I saw what happened with Sav today, and I thought you might need a friend. You didn't seem okay."

Anya's eyes were wide when he looked back at her. "How did you know about Sav?"

"I left class to –" he groaned inwardly as he thought about it, how it was just more crazy, stalker stuff "—to follow you. You seemed upset all through class and I thought something was wrong."

Anya bit her lip. "I didn't think anyone saw me leave."

"People tend not to notice what I'm doing."

"They notice when you crash your car, though." Anya's mouth fell open after she said this. "I'm so sorry," she said quickly, "I don't know why…I'm sorry." She was mortified at having asked the question, no doubt emboldened by the alcohol.

Eli swallowed. "It's okay. I mean, it's what happened. I don't care what people think of it." And he really didn't.

"Why'd you do it?"

Eli held her gaze, though he really wished he could look away. This wasn't why he'd gone to get her. He'd wanted to help her, not reminisce about his darkest moments. "Clare said she hated the hearse, so I wanted to show her I'd get rid of it for her."

Anya nodded slowly, and then said, "You couldn't have just sold it?"

Maybe it was because she was still drunk, but she sounded so genuinely confused as to what prevented him from simply just trading it away for another car instead of crashing it that he started to laugh. She made it sound so simple. "I probably could have. But that would've been easy, and…well, easy's not my style."

Anya's smile disappeared. "I figured that out at that party."

He remembered now, what she'd said to Holly J. How he'd stopped kissing her because she'd been too easy, but Holly J was a challenge so maybe he'd be interested. "That wasn't why I stopped kissing you, Anya."

Anya grimaced. "This—this was exactly why I pretended not to know what you wanted when you came to talk to me. I didn't want to hear you try to make me feel better about it."

"I wouldn't bother lying," Eli said simply, with a shrug. "I was only going to make sure you understood the real reason I stopped."

Anya's nose wrinkled. "Which is?"

"It was like I told you. You were drunk and I wasn't. It wouldn't have been right." Anya didn't react, so Eli took a chance. "Had you showed an interest without the alcohol…it might have been a different story." His stomach felt funny with nervous energy. He wasn't really sure why he'd bothered to tell Anya that. What difference did it make how he would have reacted if she'd been sober? She wasn't sober…not then, not now, so what was the point of bringing it up, other than to embarrass himself?

She seemed to be considering his words. "You just seemed so sad about Clare. I wanted to make you feel better." He tried to think about what that meant, but she continued to talk. "I always want everyone to feel better."

Her eyes filled with tears, and before he could think about it, he reached out and grabbed her hand. "What's going on?"

She looked down, watching his hand over hers, and smiled. "What do you mean? Everything's fine."

"Anya, look at where you are." She lifted her eyes, looking around as instructed, but not really understanding the point. "You're sitting here, with _me_, after that party, and you've been crying. Everything is obviously not okay."

"Why do you care?" She didn't sound like she wanted him not to, just that she was honestly confused by his concern for her.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "But I do care. And I thought you needed to know that."

Her eyebrows were knitted together as she considered these words. Her hand twitched underneath his, but he didn't pull away, despite the fact that he knew his palm was sweaty. "No one ever cares. They say they do, and they say they're there, but then all they ever really want is someone to be there for them. They don't actually listen…just unload."

Eli understood. Anya was the friend that was always there for anyone. Whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, a sounding board to vent to, someone to dispense advice you weren't going to take…Anya was your girl. Even Holly J had said so…Anya tried to stay put together for everyone. But who ever let her fall apart? Where did she go when she needed someone to lean on? She'd feel like too much a burden, going and dumping her problems on someone when she already knew about all the things they were going through. So she kept quiet and kept it inside, and now, whatever was going on was destroying her from the inside because she wouldn't let anyone in.

She probably thought Eli was just like the rest of them. That he was just looking for a place to unload his own pain. Surely Anya felt that he would deem whatever was going on in his life as more important than what was going on in hers. And he knew, if he did, she would be there. She'd smile and be nice and help him just the way she helped everyone. But he didn't want that.

He gripped her hand, and leaned forward. "I haven't got anything to unload. I'm more the silent, brooding type anyway."

"What's your point?" she whispered, still looking as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

"I know you don't know me from anyone, really…but maybe that's what you need. Someone fresh, someone who's not going to judge you, but is willing to listen and help you if there's any way that I can. I know I may be weird, and I'm definitely intense, so I may not be your idea of a perfect friend, but…." He trailed off.

Anya started to shake her head. "I just don't know," she admitted, a tear slipping down her cheek. Eli wasn't sure what she didn't know about, whether she meant being his friend or whether she meant leaning on someone, letting him in when she hadn't really let anyone in. Either way, he was in the same position.

Eli took his hand away from hers, and slid his thumb along her jaw line, wiping away her tears. "That's fine," he whispered. His thumb was still against her jaw, and she seemed to be leaning into the touch, her eyes half closed. "Just know that you're only as alone as you want to be."

She squeezed her eyes shut and he pulled his hand away. She scrubbed at her eyes, sighing heavily. "Thank you, Eli," she said, fingertips pressing her eyelids, "for the ride home." One hand still on her face, her other groped blindly for the door handle, and she was out of the car before Eli thought to say anything more.

* * *

><p>Anya woke up that Monday morning with renewed determination. Her mother was starting her new round of chemo in three days, and Anya was going to be ready for it. She remembered what her mother had told her once, something a therapist had told her when she'd gone to counseling during her last rounds of chemo. Cancer was a family illness, and it affected each of them differently. Her mother got the sickness, the physical symptoms, but they all had emotional symptoms. It wasn't her battle alone, but rather the battle of each person involved in the journey with her.<p>

So it was important Anya get herself on the right page. No sense of going into battle without armor. Through her mother's first chemo, she'd kept busy, put herself in the role of being the girl who kept things together so her mother wouldn't worry. Staying positive was her mental armor, and it was time she polish it up.

But it didn't feel so easy this time. She was still angry with the cancer that had hurt her mother the first time, let alone the anger she felt toward this new onset of it. It wasn't fair. Her mother had already had to fight, had been so brave and won her war, what right did her body have to betray her _again_?

When she got to school that day, she was prepared to slip back into her old Anya self. She made amends with Holly J for the party, apologizing for drinking too much and blaming any hurt feelings on too much alcohol. Holly J still seemed miffed about not having heard of her makeout session with Eli, but Anya flashed her a shy smile and told her it was purely out of embarrassment that she had never intended to tell anyone. It seemed to please Holly J that, although she was late to be let in on the news, she was still the first to know.

It made Anya's stomach clench uncomfortably to pretend to be embarrassed that she'd kissed Eli. Although it was true that she was still embarrassed she'd been so bold, she certainly didn't regret kissing him. Not after the other night. How sweet he'd been, showing up to remove her from the bad situation she'd put herself in, offering to be there for her, holding her hand and wiping away her tears and just being so kind. It was a side of him she'd never guessed at, but she saw quite plainly how someone like Clare Edwards could have fallen for him. He looked so tough and standoffish on the outside, but inside…he was nothing but heart.

She'd almost let him in, too. She'd almost broken down and told him about her mother's cancer, how scared she was, how angry she was. But she didn't, for two reasons. First, she was ashamed of being angry. She wasn't just angry that her mother was sick, but angry that she was going to have to go through it all again herself. It was a selfish anger, and she couldn't bring herself to voice it. If she kept quiet about it, she wouldn't have to admit what a monster she was for feeling that way.

But secondly…she just _couldn't_.

She knew she was being ridiculous. She spent so much of her time wishing she could find a friend for herself like the friend she tried to be for other people. Someone she could just call up whenever she needed something and they'd just listen and offer encouraging words and all that. She wanted that so badly, but she couldn't let herself have it. It wasn't the sort of person she was. She'd spent her whole life being the one who swallowed her problems in favor of solving everyone else's, and it appeared in the process she'd shut her own feelings behind some sort of wall. She always thought it'd be easy to open up to someone, once someone cared enough to be there, but she realized in that car with Eli that it was a lot harder than it appeared. It wasn't important what she was going through, not enough to moan on and on to Eli about it.

She could handle it. Admitting she needed him meant admitting she was too weak. It meant admitting that the situation was beating her. And she just wouldn't do it.

Holly J was not happy about the amount she'd drank at the party, and so Anya promised her she'd cut back on the partying for awhile. And unlike with the similar promise she'd made to Sav, she meant this one. She needed to get back into proper "Anya" mode, put back up the façade that allowed her to survive all this the first time, and that didn't involve drinking.

Smoothing things over with Holly J had taken a little longer than she'd anticipated, so she wasn't able to go to her locker until after homeroom. There was a surprise waiting for her, a little blue piece of paper stuck between the slats at the top. Confused, she pulled it out and unfolded it. The writing was slanted, a little messy, but in a purposeful way. There was very little writing on the page – just a phone number and the words _You're only as alone as you want to be. _

Her heart was racing as she stared at the note. She turned, and noticed Eli, heading down the hall, his back to her. "Eli!" she shouted. She wasn't actually sure she wanted to talk to him about this, but it was too late, as he froze at the sound of his name and turned on one foot, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his books at his side.

"Yes?" he asked, a coy smile on his face. She was beginning to hate that smile. It made him seem so…cool and aloof, while she just felt so awkward and lame in front of him.

She walked closer to him, but couldn't seem to find the words. What did she want to say about this new development, anyway? She felt flattered, almost excited at the idea that he had given her his number, but…what did it mean? Didn't this imply some sort of expectation? She had his number, so he expected her to use it,to call him, but for what?

Finally, when she had stood there silent for just a little too long and his eyebrows raised in expectation, she took a breath and held the piece of paper up in explanation. Eli grinned. Anya felt herself smiling back, not because she was forcing herself to, and she wasn't even entirely sure why. He had an infectious smile, perhaps because it seemed so out of place on someone so brooding and dark – if he was smiling, it was special. Anya found _she_ felt special, being the reason that smile was there. "I just figured it couldn't hurt," Eli said with a shrug.

"I'm fine," Anya said quickly, needing Eli to understand she wasn't the girl he'd been with in his car, the girl who cries and needs someone to protect her. She _was_ okay, she was strong and she was going to get through it all on her own. Little Miss Independent.

Eli shrugged again. "You're a lot better than fine." Anya's eyes widened in surprise. Was he _flirting_ with her? "But…just in case you need it – or you want it – there it is." He inclined his head toward the note in her hand, smiled one last time, and then turned and walked away.

Anya didn't move from her spot in the hallway, her hand still holding the note out in the air. Who _was _this boy? One minute he was protective and caring and going out of his way to help her, and the next he was being all forward and mysterious and frustrating in the most delightful way possible. And why did the fact was she so happy that he had just paid her a compliment?

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 6: Gettin' Over You – **__Clare has some second thoughts, Anya reaches out, and Eli makes a choice._

**A/N:** Once again, thank you all for your amazing reviews! I'm very excited to get the next chapter out to you guys - I really love getting into Eli's emotions, and in Chapter 6 we bring Clare into the story, which sort of sets in motion a lot of Eli's side of the story. I'm really loving writing this story, and I'm looking forward to everything that's coming up, so I really hope you guys are too!


	6. Gettin' Over You

_**Chapter Six:**_** Gettin' Over You**

To say Eli was surprised when Clare approached him after school that Thursday was a gross understatement. It marked the first time Clare had actually attempted to speak to him since that night in the hospital, save for one extremely awkward "I'm glad to see you're feeling better" she'd said to him in passing in the hallway the day after he'd gotten his leg cast off.

He was sitting at one of the picnic tables outside, waiting for Adam to join him, as the two were supposed to go to the comic book store together. So when he'd heard someone approaching, he'd looked up with a smile, only to freeze at seeing her standing there.

She was clearly uncomfortable. She was playing with her hands, her feet wiggling in their shoes. She just stared at him at first, and then eventually said, "Hi, Eli."

"Clare," he responded, leaving all emotion out of his voice until he knew what sort of conversation this was going to be.

"I ran into Adam in the hall and he said you guys were hanging out, so I asked him if he didn't mind giving me a few minutes to talk to you first," she said. Great, Eli thought. So much for the hope that Adam would swoop in soon to break up the awkwardness.

The air seemed thinner and harder to breathe with Clare so close, actually looking at him, actually talking to him. "That's…good," Eli said lamely. What was good about anything she just said, he wasn't sure, but it was the word that came out of his mouth, so he had to go with it.

Clare didn't seem to understand what he meant by that either, for she gave him a confused look and then said, "Can we talk?"

"Sure," he said automatically, as if he'd ever say anything else to her, sliding over on the picnic table. She sat down, a little closer than he'd expected, but still further away than she ever used to.

"How are you?" she asked.

He hesitated. How _was_ he? Did he even have an answer to that question? Or rather, did he have an answer he wanted her to hear? "I'm…existent."

Clare looked down at her hands. "I know the feeling."

The familiar flood of concern attacked his heart. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded quickly. "Parents are still being sort of ridiculous, but…it's getting better."

"So why are you just existing?"

She frowned. "Have you ever…have you ever done something, and you knew it was for the right reasons, and you wouldn't take it back, but…you're still unhappy, because it's not really what you want?"

His breath caught in his throat and he forced himself not to think that meant what he thought it did. His mind flashed instead to Morty, and he answered, "Yeah."

"You know I care about you, right, Eli?"

Eli looked away. Why was she doing this? "Sure," he answered. He didn't know if he did, really, but part of him rationalized she wouldn't even be sitting here if she didn't.

"I do wish we could be together," she said, and her voice sounded teary. "But we weren't good for each other. Things got really intense, and –"

"Why are you bringing all this up, Clare?" Eli interrupted. He could feel his eyes burning and he didn't want her to recount his many faults. He knew all the reasons their relationship had fallen apart, he thought about it every day, but he didn't want her to tell him all about it right now.

He watched her think for minute, as if trying to sort out the right words. "I guess I'm not having as easy a time as I thought I was going to," she said quietly. "I know we can't be together, and even if we were things wouldn't be good…but I can't help but miss what we had when it was good."

If he wasn't having this conversation himself, and had perhaps heard about it from someone else, he knew he'd be extremely angry with Clare. The feelings she was expressing were completely normal, of course. Regardless of the way they'd ended things, at one point they'd been very happy, and it was only natural to look back on that as something you'd enjoy and want to have again if you could. But as the one who'd done the dumping, Clare was supposed to keep her mouth shut about this sort of thing. Or if she couldn't, she certainly wasn't supposed to go to the only person in the world who'd actually be hurt by her saying it. She had friends, didn't she?

But instead of feeling angry with her, Eli just felt guilty. Guilty because he loved Clare, and he had hurt her. Because of him, because of the way he was, she'd lost the thing that made her happy. And he knew that, even if he wanted to, he couldn't just give it all back to her, not after everything that had happened. "I'm sorry," he finally said, trying to keep his voice calm.

"I didn't tell you so you'd be sorry," Clare said quickly. "I know you're sorry."

"So why tell me?"

"I just didn't want you to think I didn't care. It bothered me that you might think I didn't care about you anymore. I mean…it helps me sometimes, when I get lonely, to remember you care about me."

His mind flashed to Anya then. Particularly Anya on top of him, the two of them kissing. Had Clare been alone then? Had she been thinking about him caring about her, when his tongue was in another girl's mouth? But no, that didn't matter…he had nothing to feel guilty about there. If Clare wanted, she could have had him. Besides, that kiss had only happened because he'd been missing her, so really that kiss was as much about her as anyone else. "Thanks?" Eli said, it coming out as more of a question then he intended.

Clare looked unhappy. "I want us to be friends."

Eli swallowed hard. "I told you before, Clare…I can't just be friends with you."

That had hurt her. She wasn't any good at hiding her emotions, and he could see the sting in her eyes as she remembered the conversation they'd had before. "Right. I just thought…I mean, other things changed."

"And maybe that will too," Eli conceded, "but not right now." It hurt him to say it, but this whole conversation hurt. And he could only imagine how much it'd hurt if he was expected to talk to her regularly, like friends. He wasn't ready.

"I have to go," Clare announced, standing up quickly.

"Clare –" But she was gone, walking off and shaking her head, no doubt silently cursing herself for ever coming to talk to him in the first place.

* * *

><p>It used to be that Anya never understood the kids who hated the weekends. But with her mother laid up in bed and throwing up most of the day from the chemo, Anya understood. She didn't mind taking care of her mother – it wasn't like it was her mother's fault – but she found herself thinking wistfully of the distraction of school throughout that weekend. Her father had to work both Saturday and Sunday – or rather, he was working. She doubted he <em>had<em> to, but she couldn't exactly blame him for picking up extra days of work. He stayed up most nights with her mother while she tried to get sleep for school, had taken the whole day off on the day her mother started chemo, and when he knew Anya could be there, why not take a little bit of a break and allow himself to be busy with work?

She thought she was doing pretty well holding it together, all things considered. The chemo was hitting her mom pretty hard – it was like this at the beginning, while her body adjusted. But Anya stayed strong, getting her mom plain foods to eat and cuddling up with her to watch horrible romance comedies till she fell asleep. She was trying, they were both were.

Her father came home that Sunday night around seven, and her mother was asleep still. Anya was in the kitchen, trying to come up with some sort of pasta dish they could all eat. It couldn't be too saucy or creamy or her mother couldn't keep it down, but any ideas she came up with sounded too plain and gross for her and her father to eat.

"I can get this, sweetheart," he said when he saw her.

"I got it, Dad," she replied simply.

"Anya, please." She looked at him then, and saw just how tired he was. "You need some time away from the house, you've been here all weekend. Maybe you have some friends to hang out with?"

Of course she had friends she could hang out with, but she was tired and the effort it would have taken to get along with any of them just sounded so taxing. But she couldn't exactly explain that to her father, and he was trying so hard to give her some special reward. "That sounds like a great idea, Dad. I think I'll take you up on it."

And so she got ready, not even sure where she planned on going. She took a shower and pulled her hair back while it was still wet, slipping into a pair of jogging sweatpants, tank top, and sweatshirt. She certainly wasn't making a fashion statement, but she had nowhere to go and figured a walk was her only option.

She was so desperate to get away from everything she knew that she took a route she'd never taken before, paying no attention to the street signs and turning wherever seemed fitting. She knew she should be considering the fact that however far she went, she'd have to be able to double in order to get back home, but she didn't worry about it. Right then, all she wanted was space between her and her problems.

It grew dark, and the streetlights lit the way. She was glad her father thought she was meeting up with friends, as he would've been worrying otherwise about her being attacked. She wasn't worried though. In a strange way, she almost would have invited it. It would have given her a right to take a break – a stay in the hospital so she could stop worrying about everyone else and let them worry about her for a change.

It was under one particular street lamp that a parked car caught her attention. She stopped in her tracks, looking from the car to the house it was parked in front of, and back again. She couldn't really have managed to end up here of all places, could she have?

* * *

><p>Clare cared about him. She missed what they had. What did that even mean? Should he be happy, work harder to rediscover the part of him that was cooler, less intense, to give her back that man she wanted so she'd come back? Or should he just write it off as normal post-breakup talk and continue trying to get over her? Could he even get over her, if this was the sort of conversation she'd want to have with him?<p>

He was driving himself crazy. He hadn't eaten since the burger Adam had forced him to eat that Thursday night, he hadn't slept, and he'd skipped school Friday to pace his room (now neatly organized and relatively free of clutter, thanks to his therapy). The spark of hope Clare's second thoughts had ignited in him was burning through his veins, making him frantic. It suddenly seemed to him as if there was a solution, some way to actually fix it all and reset it to how it was. Before, when she'd just been over him, there'd be nothing, no solution but to move on. But now….

His cell phone rang. He dove for it, hoping beyond some wild hope that it might be Clare's name on the screen. But it wasn't, just an unknown number. He was going to ignore it, but thought better of it. "Hello?" he asked, flipping it open.

"Err…hi," a voice he thought he recognized said back. "This is really awkward."

"Anya?" he responded, placing the voice.

"Yeah," she said through her teeth, and Eli could imagine her cheeks flare red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, this was a mistake, I –"

"Wrong number?"

"Not exactly," Anya said. "I meant to call you, I just…."

Something was off, Eli could hear it in her voice. "What's going on? Are you alright? Where are you?"

She laughed nervously. "That's funny you should ask that."

"Why?"

"Uhh…do you live on Hyland?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yeah…"

"Okay, because umm…I was going for a walk, and I don't even really know how I got here, but then I saw your car, and I'm kind of, sort of…standing outside your house right now?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." He could almost hear her nodding, sucking air through her teeth as if bracing for ridicule. "I – just thought you should know. I'll be going now."

"No wait!" He was afraid she'd hung up before he said it, but he didn't hear a click and continued. "Stay where you are. I need to see you. I'll be right there."

* * *

><p>Why had she called him? As she closed her phone, she was positive she was going to melt into a pool of shame on the pavement. And he'd said he'd needed to see her. Was something wrong? He was probably just going to tell her not to call again, stand there while he waited for her to delete his phone number, because randomly calling to say she was outside his house by pure coincidence was just <em>not<em> normal behavior.

His front door opened quickly, and her breath caught when she saw him. She was used to him wearing large jackets and intricate jewelry, so it was surprising to see him in only a thin charcoal gray long-sleeve tee and jeans, only one silver chain dangling around his neck. In this outfit, it wasn't so surprising that he was as fit as she'd discovered.

"Hello there, Miss MacPherson," he said with a smile, joining her on the sidewalk.

"Hi," Anya replied, grimacing. "I'm sorry, I know it's kind of late…."

"Don't be," Eli said, "I'm actually really glad you're here."

Anya blinked at him. "You are?"

Eli closed his eyes and made a noncommittal gesture Anya couldn't interpret. "I could use some company."

Funny, Anya was feeling the same way. That was part of the reason she'd actually called, wasn't it? Partly because she couldn't believe she'd managed to walk by his house, partly because she realized he was the only 'friend' that the thought of hanging out with didn't immediately fill her with dread. "Are you alright?"

"Totally," Eli said, nodding quickly. "Just…boring myself immensely."

He was lying, but the facial expression he pulled when he said it made her laugh. "Guess you've had a lot of time to yourself, huh? You weren't at school Friday." She had found it strange that she'd even noticed his absence that day, but now that he seemed to be acting strangely, she was a little worried.

"Let's just say there were some faces I wanted a break from." For a wild second, Anya worried that he meant her, but then tried to tell herself that if that was the case, he wouldn't have asked her to wait for him to come outside. _Be cool._ "What brings you to my neighborhood, anyway? You don't exactly live that close."

Anya bit her lip. She hadn't thought far enough ahead. Calling Eli had been mostly an impulse, and she hadn't stopped to consider they might really talk or he might ask why she was there. She knew she needed to come up with some story, but between caring for her mother and all the walking, she felt so tired. Her mind was drawing a blank. "Anya?" She looked at him, feeling her lip quiver even though she didn't want it to. His voice was gentle, so concerned. He was scared, she could see it in her eyes. He thought something was really, seriously wrong…and wasn't it?

* * *

><p>She looked the most beautiful Eli had ever seen her, mostly because she hadn't even tried at all. And for once, it didn't seem like she cared, either. She was just there, face freshly scrubbed and clothes comfortable.<p>

But she was troubled. He could see it in her eyes from the moment he walked up. And she looked exhausted. Her face was paler than usual and she had dark rings around her eyes. Her hands shook slightly, but he didn't know if it was just nerves from talking to him. She always seemed nervous to talk to him, though he didn't know why.

He asked why she was there, and she bit her lip and looked ill. He had taken a step forward, half afraid she was going to collapse, and he'd said her name. He was afraid – nothing about this situation was making much sense to him, and he knew she was not okay. She looked at him, almost searching for something in his eyes, and he stayed very still, holding his breath. There was some sort of tension in the air he couldn't exactly name, but he found himself praying she would just let him in. He held her gaze, trying to convey his thoughts with his eyes. _Tell me what's wrong. Let me help. Please._

"My mother's cancer came back," she whispered, and then gasped, trying to hold back a sob. She failed, and in the next moment her hand was covering her mouth as she shook, sobs wracking her thin frame.

Eli didn't stop to think about what she'd just said. He closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around her. One circled around her back, while the other rested against the back of her head, which fell against his shoulder as she cried harder. He held her close, trying to process everything. Her mother had cancer, and had had it before. Was this what had been getting to her this whole time? Of course she was falling apart. Anya, everyone's cheerleader, trying to keep her mother's spirits up through _cancer_? Eli had to push the thought from his head to keep from breaking down for Anya. Now was not the time. He had to stay strong for her.

After a minute that seemed like an eternity, she composed herself, pulling back and wiping her nose. "I'm so sorry," she began, but he cut her off.

"Absolutely not," he said firmly, "no apologies. Not for you, not tonight." They separated so Anya could have room to calm down and compose herself.

It was in that moment that Eli's phone, now resting in his pocket, went off. Anya flushed, looking at him apologetically. "Please answer it," she said quietly, clearly horrified that she might be keeping him from doing something because of her breakdown.

He pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the front display for the name. His heart dropped when he saw Clare's name reflected back at him. He looked from the phone, to Anya, to the phone again. "Eli, answer it," she said again, more firmly.

Why wasn't he? This was the call he had been waiting days for – to have some further contact with her. Again, she was seeking him out, and he knew in his heart it wasn't bad news. He should answer the phone, talk to her – Anya would understand. After all, Clare was the woman he loved, and Anya…what was Anya to him, exactly?

His mind was racing, knowing he only had a few more rings to figure out what to do. True, he loved Clare, but…Clare had left _him_. Clare was the girl he was trying to get _over_, and he'd actually been making fair progress at it until she'd crashed back into his life the other day. And here was Anya, a girl who was mixed up and lost and needed a friend. And she had come to _him_, sought him out. Even when she'd been denying what they shared at the party, she'd been nothing but kind and polite. She'd never once made him feel bad, even when, as a popular girl, she had every excuse in the world to do so.

He flipped the phone open, pressed the red button that sent the call to voicemail, and then turned the ringer volume down to 'silent'. At Anya's questioning look, he shrugged. "Wrong number. They call me like five times a day, looking for Pamela." Anya chuckled softly, though he didn't think she actually found it that funny, all things considered. He thought for a minute more, surprised to find he didn't actually feel bad about the decision he'd just made. Then he looked up at Anya and gave her a half smile. "I think you should come inside…it's getting a little chilly out here."

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 7: All I Ever Wanted – **__Eli grows frustrated with Anya's guardedness, Anya learns Eli's darkest secrets, and Eli makes his feelings known._

**A/N:** Once again, thank you for all the amazing reviews! You guys are so inspiring. And just a note - sometimes I update a couple times in one days because I'm actually a few chapters ahead in writing. Specifically, I'm starting on Chapter 9 right now (and Eli's about to get the chance to _really_ play the hero). But this story is being written fast, because I'm really in love with writing about Eli, and you all are so encouraging. :)


	7. All I Ever Wanted

_**Chapter Seven: **_**All I Ever Wanted**

Eli led Anya into the house, and she quietly asked if she could use his bathroom to clean her tear-streaked, splotchy face. She was embarrassed by how she looked, but he still thought she was beautiful. He indicated which door she wanted, and watched her as she disappeared behind it, the door clicking shut behind her.

The moment she was gone, he turned his back to the door, fishing his phone out of his pocket. It hadn't been that long since the first call, but Anya had protested for several minutes about coming inside. He'd eventually convinced her that _he_ was cold, even though he wasn't, so she'd come inside for his benefit. He opened his phone. Another missed call from Clare, but no voicemails.

What was he going to do? Now inside and alone, the act of deferring Clare to voicemail in favor of staying with Anya seemed like lunacy. This was Clare, _his_ Clare, the love of his life, his savior, his…everything. Right? The girl he'd spent so much time hoping for, the reason why his stomach clenched every time the phone rang and it wasn't her. But now she _was_ calling. She was seeking him out for the second time in a few days, looking for something she actually missed about him, and he'd dismissed her. What was he thinking?

His phone lit up in his hand, Clare's name appearing again. Third phone call in about fifteen minutes. What if something was wrong? What if she needed him? The reason he'd ignored her was because Anya was there, Anya needed a friend, but what if Clare did too? Did she still trump someone like Anya?

But no, Clare was fine. She wasn't the sort to sit in silence if something was wrong. If she needed his help, she would have been pleading with his voicemail, as if that would somehow get him to call back. She believed in the power of words that way. Her silence was because she wanted to talk _to_ him, probably about the same doubts she'd been having the other day.

The missed call screen appeared again, and Eli shut the phone with a snap. He was confused, but he knew it wasn't because he was torn between Anya and Clare. Every time Clare's name appeared on his phone, he thought of Anya, and how he couldn't imagine trying to send her away. How all he'd do is worry about her if he left then to talk to Clare. No, Eli was confused because he was realizing for the first time that he had been wrong all along. He thought, all along, that what he wanted so badly was for Clare to reach out to him, to reconsider things and have doubts and give him a chance to make it better. And now that it was happening…he found himself wanting to pull away. The idea of putting in so much effort, of going out of his way to prove himself to Clare made him uneasy. Because he knew, somewhere deep in his heart, that it'd make no difference. She couldn't make that leap and let him in again.

What he wanted, he discovered, was to stay with Anya. To make her feel better, to make her smile, to give her a place to share her pain and save her from feeling so overwhelmed. In that moment, he wasn't concerned with Clare. He rationalized to himself that maybe someday, Clare would be ready to make that leap, and maybe then he'd feel different – but for tonight, he couldn't put himself on the line like that, not with Anya reaching out to him.

He heard the bathroom door open, and he turned around, his phone still in his hand. Anya stood in the door, looking unsure of where she should go. She glanced down at his hand and the phone. "More calls for Pamela?"

Eli bit his lip. He knew this was his last opportunity. Bullfrog and Cece were out, and there was nothing to stop him from saying it was one of them, faking an emergency, and sending Anya on her way. She looked better now, not on the edge of a breakdown. Nothing stopped him…except himself. "Come sit down," he said, gesturing to the couch nearby. As she walked forward, he flipped his phone over, sliding open the battery door.

As she sat down, he popped out the battery and sat down on the coffee table so he was facing her. "I'd rather not be bothered by wrong numbers all night, so…hold onto this for me?" he asked, holding out the battery.

She stared at the battery, confused. "Couldn't you just shut your phone off?"

He could, but he liked the twisted symbolism in giving the battery to Anya. The phone was his way out, his connection to Clare, and if Anya held the battery, he was giving her the right to take that connection away. Besides, he was afraid he'd chicken out on not answering Clare, and turn his phone back on at the first available opportunity if he allowed himself. Not able to explain all that to Anya, he just flashed her a smile. "I told you easy's not my style, remember?"

She took the battery from him, smiling back. They sat in silence for awhile, until Eli finally broke the silence. "Who else knows?"

"Nobody," she admitted quietly. "I mean…Holly J, Riley, some other people…they all knew the first time, but they all think she's still okay."

Eli considered this. As little as he knew about Anya, he still knew it must have been almost impossible for her to tell anyone about her mother's cancer the first time, not wanting to burden any of them. How happy she must have been the day she could tell all of them her mother was in remission, to finally have that weight lifted. He knew that Anya would have felt greedy to go and take it back now, to ask for all their support and help again so soon, when it'd been so difficult for her to accept any of it in the first place.

"I'm so sorry, Eli, I really should not have-"

"Shh," Eli said, dismissing her apology with a wave. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Anything. I owe you."

"For tonight, no more apologies. No saying what you shouldn't have done, what you should do, none of that. Just talk to me."

He watched her lip move as she bit the inside of her cheek, considering this. Finally, she gave him a shaky smile. "I'm okay, though. I mean…I can go, I don't need to talk."

Eli felt a surge of anger at those words. He knew it was second nature to her to just say she was okay, the 'fake it till you make it' mentality, but in that moment he didn't think he could stand it any longer. "You should stop that too. Stop telling me okay when you're obviously not. It's insulting."

* * *

><p>As soon as he said the word 'insulting', Anya wished she could swallow up any word she'd ever said that made him feel bad. She'd never intended to insult him. Not when he'd been so sweet and held her when she cried and not made her feel bad about it. He'd pretended to be cold outside just so she'd come inside and he made a big show of shutting off his phone so she'd know he was all hers to talk to…she didn't want to hurt him.<p>

"'Insulting'?" she found herself repeating, her head cocked to the side. She was honestly confused how she'd insulted him, when she was only trying to be nice, to let him off the hook he'd never asked to be caught on.

"Yes, insulting," he said sharply, standing. He moved around the coffee table and looked down at her from the other side, his arms folded over his chest. "The rest of your friends may be too self-absorbed to notice the way you're falling apart, but I'm not. Don't try to make me one of them, another person too clueless to see how you really feel."

Anya bristled. She knew she should probably be insulted on her friends' behalf for his remark, but she couldn't find a way to deny what he'd said. Still, her voice had a tinge of annoyance to it when she responded. "Is that what this is all about? You have to be different from everyone, so you have to see a problem they don't? Is that the only reason you're so concerned?"

He barely moved, but drew his stomach in, as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "You can't seriously think that," he said, his voice low with controlled anger.

He was right, she couldn't seriously think that, and she didn't. Eli Goldsworthy loved being different, everyone knew that, but there was more to it than that when it came to her. Wanting to be different and going out of your way to associate with a girl you barely knew just because she seemed sad were two very different things. No one would see him as edgy and extreme and unique for befriending her. Especially when he did so much of it in secret, in his empty house or in notes left in her locker.

Still, she was angry with him, and she wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was because now he knew her secret, saw what her weakness truly was. He had done nothing wrong, and had actually been the only one she could think of that had done anything right recently, but in that moment she wanted to yell at him. She was mad at him for being able to see her for what she really was, as the mess of a person barely holding herself together. What he must have thought of her, the pity he must have felt for her being so weak. She didn't want pity, she didn't want help…but at the same time, the idea of being alone in her secret again made her feel like she couldn't breathe.

Confusion was exhausting. She had yearned for so long to be able to find a way to let someone in and tell them how she was feeling to be going through all this again, and now that she had it, she just felt exposed and embarrassed.

"I know you're trying to help," Anya said, choosing her words carefully so as not to say something in anger she knew she wouldn't mean. "But there's no need to. I can handle this on my own."

"Doesn't mean you _have_ to," Eli bit back. "I told you before –"

"—that I'm only as alone as I want to be, I know, I know. But it's not that simple, Eli. Do you think it's easy just to decide not to be alone anymore? How simple is it supposed to be for me to just let you in, when I don't know anything about you?" She was standing now, though she wasn't sure when exactly she'd stood up. She hated sitting when he wasn't – it made her uncomfortable.

His nostrils flared. "You want to know about me?" It sounded as if he was taking it as a challenge. Anya opened her mouth to speak, to tell him he didn't have to tell her anything, that she didn't mean it that way, but he cut her off. "You're exactly right. Why should you open up and tell all your deepest feelings to someone you don't even know? So here, let's take a look at who Elijah Goldsworthy really is."

He backed away from the coffee table and began pacing the length of the living room. Anya was uncomfortable, wishing she could take back what she said, even if it was how she felt. Eli wasn't happy, she was making it worse. Why couldn't she do anything right? "Before I came to Degrassi, I dated a girl named Julia. I lost my virginity to her, I loved her, I probably would've done the whole 'high school sweethearts married till we're ninety and died together in our sleep' thing with her…if I could have." He stopped speaking, stopped moving, looking out the window. From what she could see of his face, Anya knew he wasn't seeing the street outside, but something in his memories that she couldn't understand.

* * *

><p>Eli knew he had to play this carefully. He felt half crazy, seized by this desire to tell Anya about his secrets. He'd been so guarded about it with Clare, dodging all her questions and waiting until the last possible moment to tell her any of it, and now here he was, volunteering all the information to Anya. But then he remembered his excuse for going to the party, that he needed to try something new because his old way of handling things wasn't doing him any good. So why not carry that logic on to this?<p>

And Anya did have a point. How could he expect her to open up to him if he was just an outline of a person, a person with a personality and quirks that had no backstory? He expected her to explain her feelings, her life, so he had to do the same.

Still…he had to be careful. If he said too much, he knew she'd do nothing but worry about him, want to help him. And he honestly didn't need it. These things hurt him, affected his day to day life, but he was managing them. She was the one in crisis, the one looking for something solid to hold onto.

"Julia died," he finally said, not looking over at Anya. "We got in an argument and she took off on her bike and she got hit by a car. I never got to tell her I was sorry."

* * *

><p>Anya's brain seemed to freeze. It was the last thing she'd expected Eli to say. She wished she was braver, for if she was she would have stood up and gone to him and hugged him then, because it seemed like the only logical thing to do.<p>

But she stayed where she was, she sat back down on the couch, and she didn't speak. She probably should have said she was sorry, but he'd already asked her not to apologize, and she knew it made no difference anyway. Her being sorry for him didn't bring Julia back or give him the chance to make things right with her.

"After she died, I had a hard time throwing things away." Eli turned then, pointing toward the door next to the bathroom. "That's my room…it was a mess. I kept everything. I know she's dead, I know she's been dead and it's always the same…but if felt like when I was throwing things away, she was disappearing more. Like everyone was."

Anya realized she was nodding as he spoke. Some part of her mind realized that what he was saying was crazy, but she found herself understanding it anyway. With all her years playing the sympathetic ear for her friends, but she'd gotten good at seeing things from other's perspectives. It wasn't that she could see herself being in Eli's position, or see herself making the same choices he did, but she could understand why it was logical to him. People didn't usually do things because they thought they were crazy, they did what made sense to them in that place and time in their lives. And Anya could see why it made sense to Eli to keep everything.

"I got better," Eli said quickly, though Anya wondered if she was the only one he was trying to convince by saying that. "You could even go look if you wanted – it's all gone. I've been working on it. But it's not easy and it wasn't something I wanted to do. I didn't want to live like that, I hated waking up in there every day, seeing all that stuff, but…it was hard to change."

Eli walked over to her, sitting back down on the coffee table. He had a manic look in his eyes, and she looked down at his hands. His fingertips were touching, his forearms resting on his legs, and his hands were trembling. "I couldn't have done it alone though, that's the thing," he said, his eyes darting back and forth between hers. "I mean – I could have if I wanted to, because I have been doing it by myself since Clare left. But I didn't. I wouldn't have done it without her. She helped me."

Anya tensed, realizing the conversation was coming back to her now. "I know it isn't easy to open up to someone, Anya. It's not easy for me. Look at me." She watched him again, saw the way the muscles around his jaw kept clenching, how his hands were shaking. "These aren't fun things to tell someone. You're one of the only people who know. So I know how scary it is to tell someone about all of this, but if you don't tell someone, you are going to explode. I know because I've been there, I've been on that edge and it was only because of other people that I ever found my way back."

Anya looked down, focusing on his hands, no longer able to meet his eyes. "But those people…" she hesitated. Everything was moving so fast, their secrets had spilled out of them, and she felt like she wasn't ready. She couldn't sort out how she felt about anything right now, least of all this remarkable boy sitting in front of her, asking her to take this leap of faith she'd never allowed herself to make before. "Those people had a vested interest in you getting better. They cared about you, they had all these feelings for you and wanted you to be okay so that they would be. You not being okay made it so they weren't okay."

She was still watching his hands, and she watched as they moved forward, grabbing hers and bringing them together in front of her. She looked up into his eyes and saw that he'd leaned forward, his face now so much closer to hers. "You're right," he whispered firmly, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over her hands. "I don't really know you, Anya, and you don't really know me. But at the same time, we know each other in ways that other people don't, and when it comes down to it…something keeps drawing me to you. I don't know what it is, but like you said…you not being okay makes it so I'm not. So call it selfish if you want, but I want to help you because I need to know I've done what I can. It's the only way I can be okay."

It was wild. It was crazy. It was everything Anya had never had before, the kind of thing she heard about or saw in the movies, but nothing that had ever been presented to her as an option before. Eli was there before her, simple and unassuming and asking for nothing in return other than the opportunity to do whatever he could to make her okay. He wasn't asking for a promise or a guarantee…only an opportunity. But it was crazy. It was impulsive and strange and there were so many sensible reasons to walk away, but Anya knew she couldn't have moved away if she'd wanted to.

They moved at the same time. Their hands parted, and one of his moved up to rest against her cheek, while hers both landed on his lap. She didn't stop to think, and as his head moved forward, so did hers. Their lips met, and she closed her eyes, taking in the feeling of his soft lips against hers, feeling the restraint behind his touch. Her earlier memories of kissing him were a little foggy with booze, but now, stone cold sober and aware of every inch of her body, Anya could say with absolute certainty that Eli kissed better than any other boy she knew.

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 8: Leave Me Alone –**__ Clare has concerns, rumors spread, Owen causes trouble, and Anya gets fed up._

**A/N:** Once again, thank you all for your amazing reviews! You guys are the best! Several of you have expressed concerns that Eli might end up with Clare - don't worry too much! This is an Anya/Eli story. :) But he does care for Clare, and he's in kind of a complicated place, because he really didn't see himself developing feelings for someone else, and Clare certainly didn't think he would either, so they have their own journey to take.

Ahh. I'm just so excited about this story, and I'm so glad you all are enjoying it. (P.S. Bit of a hint for upcoming chapters - I hope you all aren't big fans of Owen, because Anya's life is going to get worse because of him.)


	8. Leave Me Alone

_**Chapter Eight: **_**Leave Me Alone**

It was Monday morning, and for the second time in his life, Eli found himself parked in front of Anya's house, though circumstances were rather different from the last time. Now, he was waiting for her to check in on her mother and get changed into her school uniform so he could take her to school.

They had kissed only once that night, though it was, admittedly, a very long kiss. She was beautiful and warm and he'd wanted to go further, but with all the emotions that the two had gone through that night, it just didn't seem right to either of them. After the kiss, it seemed neither had much to say. Both of them were still hurting over the secrets they'd shared, but just the presence of the other seemed to be enough to fix them, just for that night.

They watched TV, sitting near each other on the couch, but not close enough to touch. When it got late, Anya voiced the ridiculous idea that she'd walk home, which Eli scoffed at. Beyond the fact that it was far too late for a girl to be walking alone outside, he could tell how tired she was and doubted she'd have the strength to make it home.

He could have simply offered to take her home, but the thought of being alone that night wasn't a happy one, and he felt she probably could use the night away from her home. And so he'd convinced her to stay the night. She called her dad and got the okay (though she went in the other room to make the call, so Eli doubted her dad knew where she really was), and he offered her his bed, but she insisted she take the couch, so as not to disrupt his life any further.

The passenger door opened and Anya tossed her backpack on the floor, sliding in and smiling at him. "I hope you didn't mind waiting out here," Anya said as she buckled herself in, "but my dad _might_ have thought I was staying at Leia's last night, and so you coming in would've been a bit of a shock."

He raised his eyebrows at her, smirked, and started the car. "Well, well, lying to our parents, are we?"

"I don't think he would mind if he knows you," she explained, "but calling him late at night to say I was staying at a boy's house who he never met…that's just a bad idea. He probably wouldn't like you very much under those circumstances."

He nodded, understanding her point. He hoped he wasn't assuming things by taking this to mean that Anya did have some intention of him meeting her father. Why else would she not want her dad to get the wrong impression of him, if she never intended for him to get a right one?

Anya apologized several times on the drive to school, since Eli lived much closer than she did and he wouldn't have had to drive so far if not for her, but he dismissed them all. That morning was the happiest he'd seen Anya in a long while. She was smiling and she seemed genuinely well rested, and Eli found he was glad for the time they had alone together, before they could go to school and someone or something would ruin her good mood. Eli, too, felt better than he had the past few days, a lightness in his chest and a tingle still on his lips where he'd kissed her.

* * *

><p>She felt guilty for thinking it, but inside, Anya was thrilled she'd been able to take the night away from her house. Eli's couch was hardly the most comfortable place to sleep, but the blanket he'd given her was soft and smelled the way that clothes from her mother's dresser did, and it reminded her of simpler times. She slept better than she'd slept in ages, far enough away from the problems in her life that she wouldn't have been able to find her way back to them if she'd wanted to. And somehow, knowing Eli was just in the other room made her feel safe.<p>

"If you need me, I'll be right in there," he'd told her as he'd handed her the blanket, gesturing toward the same door by the bathroom he'd pointed out earlier. "Don't hesitate to come get me…but I would suggest knocking first." The way he wiggled his eyebrows at his own suggestiveness made her laugh. It was nice, talking to someone like him, someone who could make her laugh without her having to think about it. She usually laughed at the things her friends said not because their jokes were funny, but because they intended them to be. But it was different with Eli…but then again, what wasn't different with him?

They pulled into the parking lot at school, and Anya saw Eli's friend Adam waiting on the fence near the parking spot. Adam had been nice to her the few times they'd had cause to interact, but Anya couldn't help but feel disappointed upon seeing him, as if his presence was like someone pressing play on her life again. She'd been able to pause everything when it was just her and Eli, but now – back to the real world.

"Hey, man," Adam said when Eli got out of the car, and as Anya exited, she caught the strange look Adam shot in her direction. Eli just shrugged at him, raising his eyebrows briefly.

"Thanks for the ride, Eli," Anya said with a bright smile, slinging her bookbag over her shoulder. She wouldn't make it awkward for him. Everything he had done for her, he deserved his time with his friend without feeling like he had to include her. She gave him a quick wave with two of her fingers and spun on her heels, heading for the stairs.

* * *

><p>Being the gentleman he was, Eli neglected to tell Adam that Anya had spent the night. He simply told Adam he had given Anya a ride that morning because she'd needed one, but didn't elaborate further.<p>

Clare approached them at his locker, looking frantic. "I thought you had died!" she said furiously, her arms flying around his neck. They both froze, and Clare awkwardly stepped back, folding her arms across her chest as if trying to stop them from acting out of turn again.

Eli hadn't prepared himself for running into Clare. Though Anya had given him his phone battery back that morning, he'd practically forgotten about avoiding Clare's calls, with everything that had happened. He didn't know what he was going to tell her, or what he even _wanted_ to tell her. "Well…surprise! I didn't."

She didn't smile. "Where were you last night? I called you like, six times." Whether it was more or less than that, Eli didn't know. He'd replaced his battery, but hadn't turned his phone on. His time with Anya had felt like such an escape from all his other feelings that he hadn't wanted to spoil it by knowing just how many times he'd let Clare down.

"Hey, Eli, I'll catch you in class," Adam said suddenly, grabbing up his books and exiting before either of them could stop him. Once he was gone, Clare moved in closer, studying Eli's face.

"Where were you?" she repeated. He knew that look in her eyes from the night of the dance, and it hurt him to see it again. She didn't trust him enough to handle his own life anymore. She assumed he'd done something crazy and stupid the night before, just like when he'd crashed Morty.

He bit the inside of his lip. He knew he had no reason to feel guilty, as he didn't owe Clare anything at this point, but he still didn't like having to tell her what happened. "I was helping out a friend," he finally said, consoling himself with the knowledge that he was being honest, even if not completely so.

Her eyes narrowed. "I didn't realize you and Anya were friends."

He gave her a sideways glance. "I didn't realize I said anything about Anya."

"Everybody's talking about it," she said quietly. "I thought it was just a crazy rumor, but…they're saying that you brought her to school today." He could tell from the way she said it that she'd heard a much juicer rumor than that, one that likely had little to do with no-contact television watching after a fully clothed kiss with no tongue.

He wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't really surprised that the two of them together was spreading through the school like wildfire – the Prince of Darkness and Ms. Sunshine Cheerleader. It'd be hard to find two more opposite people. It was practically laughable, if you didn't know the whole story, which no one did. "I brought her to school _today_…why's that mean I was with her when you called?" There, that was good. He didn't _deny_ being with her, but he didn't say he was either. No one, Clare included, needed to know she stayed at his house. That was their business.

"I guess it doesn't, but…she used to go to Lakehurst, so I imagine she lives a lot further away than you do, and it seems pretty out of your way to go get her…." Clare trailed off. She thought she was catching in some sort of lie, but he wasn't going to give her, or anyone, that.

"Why'd you call me so much, anyway?" Eli asked. He didn't feel the need to explain about Anya, so it was really the only topic he had left to discuss.

Her expression changed, instantly nervous. "You didn't come to school Friday, and I guess I just thought…after our talk and everything, I was worried –"

Eli scoffed. He should have known. She thought he was too fragile to survive talking to her. She was checking up on him, like she was his mother, not the girl he was in love with. "I'm fine, Clare. I can handle it – I'm a big boy, after all." He stepped back, about to walk away, and Clare grabbed his arm.

"I worry about you. I know it hasn't been easy for you, us breaking up and everything."

"I've been through worse," Eli said, jerking his arm out of her hold. "I'll get through this too."

* * *

><p>"Explain something to me, MacPherson." Owen came up from behind Anya, startling her as she stood at her locker rearranging her books. He moved around her, leaning against the locker beside hers.<p>

"Yes?" Anya asked, trying to keep any trace of annoyance out of her voice.

"Why is it that you reject _me_-" he gestured as himself as if to say he was something extremely special "—but you give it up for _Goldsworthy_, of all people?"

Anya's mouth fell open. "I did what for who, now?"

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't heard?" he chuckled. "It's all over the school, sweetheart. You think nobody saw you come in with him on Monday? People talk."

"I had car trouble, and he offered to give me a lift," Anya said plainly.

It was the story they'd agreed upon in French that Monday, when Eli mentioned to her that some people had asked him about them arriving together. She hadn't known how to respond, not sure how to tell him that although she wasn't ashamed to be seen with him, the reasons behind her being at his house were something she'd rather keep quiet. It was then that he'd smirked and said he thought everyone was making a big deal out of nothing, when he'd only seen her having car trouble and offered to take her to school so she wouldn't be late. For a moment, she'd been confused, but then she realized he was giving her a cover story, and she'd smiled, agreeing that people were being typical overdramatic high-schoolers, making something out of nothing.

"Oh, I'm sure you did," Owen said, raising his eyebrows and nodding at her, "and I bet he gave you quite the tune-up."

"You are disgusting!"

He stepped closer to her. "Oh, and you're not, sleeping with _him_? You do know the sort of people he hangs out with, right?" He lowered his voice, and he grabbed a piece of her hair, twirling it between his fingers. "Don't worry, though…you might be his sloppy seconds now, but I'd still be willing to show you what a real man can do."

* * *

><p>Being Adam's best friend meant understanding that some people were simply enemies, and would be enemies as long as they lived, simply because they were too close-minded to be anything else. It was probably a very close-minded way of looking at them, but turnabout's fair play. If they couldn't accept Adam as he was, then Eli saw no reason to accept them as <em>they<em> were.

Owen Milligan was one of these people. As one of Fitz's former best friends, Owen had done his share of damage to Adam, and Eli knew he was trouble. Which was why, when he saw him approach Anya in the hallway that Wednesday, he thought it best to keep his eye on the situation. He had just been walking by, on his way to meet up with Adam to skip class, but something gave him a bad vibe about the situation he observed, as Owen leaned up against the locker next to Anya.

Luckily, Anya's locker was in a good position for surveillance. By pretending to get a drink from the nearby drinking fountain, Eli could turn his head just enough to see what was going on, though he couldn't hear well, but not draw any attention to himself.

He was behind Owen, so he could see Anya's face when she looked at him. She looked confused at first, then angry, and finally horrified as he was pretty sure he heard her say something about Owen being disgusting. He smiled to himself at the insult, straightening up and wiping his mouth.

Good timing, too, because it was then that Owen stepped closer and started playing with Anya's hair. Anya's face grew even more horrified as she stared at him, and her arm flew up, knocking his hand out of her hair.

Eli saw red and didn't stop to think any further.

* * *

><p>Eli was shorter, and slimmer, than Owen, so it was no surprise that Anya didn't see him at first. All she saw was a hand grab Owen just below the shoulder and turn him, slamming him against the locker. Anya jumped back, and then she saw Eli.<p>

She'd never seen him look so angry. He moved to stand in front of Owen, his stance almost bull-like – forehead forward and chin pulled back, so he glared up at Owen. "Someone needs to learn to keep his hands to himself," he said, flexing his hands in preparation of a fight.

"Don't do this –" Anya began, but Owen cut her off.

"Oh, look at the _big_ boy, protecting his territory." He closed the gap between himself and Eli, staring down at him, challenging him. Anya's hand clutched at her forehead and she looked around, praying Simpson or someone was on their way. But all she saw were students, all of whom just stood there, captivated by the brewing fight.

"Listen here, Missing Link," Eli spat back, "in the evolved human race, women are seen as more than objects for sexual recreation. And so some of us –" he put his hands out, shoving Owen back against the locker again "—don't take too kindly to guys like you who think they can just take whatever they want from girls like Anya here."

Owen went to push back, but Eli jumped back, smirking as Owen's reach fell short. "If she'll sink low enough as to give it to you, then it's fair game for anyone."

Anya saw Eli's nostrils flare and his hands curl into fists, and instinctively stepped forward, throwing her arm between them. As she predicted, Eli took another step back, his hands relaxing. He wouldn't take the chance to hurt her. "Stop it," she hissed, looking between them. "Just stop it. Absolutely nothing happened, but I don't care if you believe that or not. You both need to find better things to do with your time than fight over me. It's disgusting."

* * *

><p>She turned and walked away after that, and Eli considered punching Owen right then, just because he could. But something about the look in Anya's eyes made him uneasy to leave her alone. So instead, he turned to Owen and lurched at him, smirking when he jerked back instinctually, and then took off out the door to find Anya.<p>

"Anya, wait up!" he called when he spotted her walking through the parking lot. She whirled around, and he noticed her face was red, tears streaked down her face. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that the whole school thinks I'm some huge slut now, all because I came to school in a guy's car?" She sighed, swiping roughly at her cheeks.

"I didn't say anything like that to anyone," he said sincerely. She seemed just as angry at him as anyone else. She couldn't possibly think he had tried to make that night into more than it was?

She laughed. "It doesn't matter, Eli! It doesn't matter what you say, or what I say…people are going to think what they want. And ordinarily, it wouldn't even bother me…but I'm so tired of everyone _ruining everything_!" She practically screamed the last part. For her sake, Eli was glad that they were supposed to be in class, as it meant there wasn't anyone in the parking lot to hear her.

"What do you mean?" His voice was low, and he hoped it was soothing. He didn't want her to feel bad, to cry about this. Some creep like Owen Milligan didn't deserve the time it took for her to tell him to go to hell, let alone any of her tears. He wanted her to talk to him, to let him go kick Owen's ass and just make it better. It hurt him to see her like this.

She took a deep breath, trying to control herself. "I know what I'm about to say is completely pathetic and self-absorbed, but here it is anyway. I am so tired of it. Everyone else gets to have friends. Everyone else gets to rely on someone, and let them in, and have them help them, and I don't and it's just so frustrating!"

"Anya, you have that, you have it with me, you know you do –"

"What good does it do?" Her voice became shrill. "I get someone who I might actually, for the first time, be able to depend on, and people have to ruin it. They have to take it and they have to make it something ugly and try to use it to their advantage to get what _they_ want. Why can't one thing just be good?"

Eli stared at her, wishing he knew what to say. But, once again, she was right. It was all part of the reason he didn't even try to get along with most people. Because they always had a way of ruining things. The only good things were the things you kept to yourself and didn't allow anyone to touch. How perfect had their night and morning been, when no one had known about their time together? It was easy when it just them, enjoying their time with each other – it was other people that had to go and see something wrong in it.

Anya turned and started walking again, and Eli followed until they reached her car. "Where are you going?" he asked. She was still crying and visibly upset, certainly not in any condition to get behind a wheel.

"My mom's chemo appointment starts in twenty minutes. If I hurry, I can still make it," she replied flatly, opening the back door of her car to put her stuff inside.

"I can take you," he said quickly. "I was planning on skipping anyway, and…I don't think you should be driving right now."

She slammed the back door and opened the driver's door before looking back at him. "I'm fine, Eli. And I don't want to go with you anyway. I need to do this on my own." With that, she got into the car and slammed the door behind her.

He stood there, wishing he knew what to say to stop her, but knowing that those words probably didn't exist. He watched her back out of her parking space and speed out of the parking lot, and closed his eyes, trying not to think of the last time a girl he cared about had argued with him and then taken off like that. He felt his stomach clench, and he tried to steady his breathing. This time would be different. It had to be.

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 9: Rude Boy –**_ _Anya breaks a promise, Eli gets a call from Drew, and Owen takes it too far._

**A/N:** Once again, you guys are awesome! You have no idea how inspiring your reviews are. I'm just about to start on Chapter 12, so hopefully you guys like where everything ends up going. Our favorite duo has some more drama/trauma to go through, but they will have some happy times too. :)


	9. Rude Boy

_**Chapter Nine:**_** Rude Boy**

It was Saturday night, and Adam and Eli were at the Dot, planning to go see the latest horror movie after dinner. "Dude, I got to ask you a question," Adam said, dipping a fry into the pile of ketchup on his plate.

"Then ask it," Eli said between bites.

"What are you going to do about this Clare thing?"

He raised his eyebrows at Adam. "I didn't know there was a 'Clare thing'. Last I checked, she broke up with me."

"Well, I don't know where you're sitting, but from where I'm at – she's clearly not over you. And you're obviously not over her."

Eli set his burger down and cleaned his fingers off on his napkin. "I fought for Clare already, when she was actually still with me. I was willing to do _anything_ for her, and it wasn't what she wanted. So as far as what I'm going to 'do'…nothing." He shrugged. "Clare's emotions are a catch-22. If I respond to them, she'll get scared because it's too intense or because she might not really feel as strongly back. If I ignore them, then she'll try harder and want me more, just like before."

"What are you saying? If she wants you back, you won't go for it?"

Eli looked at Adam carefully. He had wondered what the answer to this question was many times himself. "I'm saying that I can't see that happening, and even if it did, I can't see it sticking. Right now, I don't have Clare at all. I can't be friends with her when I care as much as I do, so I'd rather work on not feeling that way anymore so I can at least _talk_ to her again. The rest –"

A burst of rap music interrupted him, and Adam made a face. "Sorry," he said quickly, pulling his phone from his pocket. "It's Drew," he said apologetically, reading his phone's display.

Eli made a gesture indicating Adam should answer it and leaned back, taking a drink of his soda. He hadn't spoken to Clare since that Monday when he'd brought Anya to school, but he'd thought about her a great deal since then. He couldn't deny he still loved Clare, though some days he wondered if it was more out of stubbornness than anything else. She was the first girl he'd cared about since Julia, who he'd fully intended to love forever, and a part of him wasn't willing to accept that those feelings could just go away. He wanted to be right about her, about them together.

But there was no denying that things between him and Clare had changed. She couldn't look at him now without seeing someone dangerous, someone who was likely to destroy himself at any moment. How could he be in a relationship with someone who not only kept him at arm's length, but didn't even trust him to be alone with himself?

Adam leaned forward, pressing the phone to his ear, a look of confusion on his face. "Whoa, bro, slow down – you want who's number?" Eli set his drink down, and Adam looked up at him. "You don't need it. No, no I get it, I – listen to me! I'm sitting here with him right now," Adam said into the phone. Eli couldn't hear the other half of the conversation, but he could tell Drew was obviously worked up about something.

Eli's eyebrows raised and he pointed at himself, to which Adam nodded jerkily, holding out the phone. "Drew says he needs to talk to you, says it's important."

This was new. Eli had talked to Drew a few times, mostly when he'd been around Adam's house, but they hardly sought each other out for conversation. They were from different worlds, and Drew was part of the same football team on which Eli had so many enemies – it just wouldn't have ended well for either of them to strike up a friendship. Eli didn't see Drew as a bad guy. Maybe a little slow to do the right thing, but he always eventually stood up for Adam, and Eli respected that.

"Hello?" he said. He heard Drew breathing, and could just make out the sound of music in the background.

"Okay, look, I don't have much time and I don't feel very comfortable doing this anyway," Drew said quickly, sounding angry. "But the way I see it, you've always been good to my brother, and I should help you if I can. Besides, Milligan's got it coming to him, and after what he did to Adam, I don't see any reason to protect him. "

Eli sat up straighter. This was about Owen? "Okay…" he prompted, when Drew didn't continue.

"The football players and cheerleaders like to get together for little parties throughout the school year. Tonight we're at Marisol Lewis' house." He rattled off the address, and Eli fished a pen out of his pocket, scribbling it down on a napkin.

"What does any of this have to do with me?"

"Owen's got a big mouth. He's all talk, and so he likes to tell everyone when he plans on going after a girl, like we're all supposed to be so impressed." Eli froze. He knew where this was going now. The only reason he would care about what was happening at a football player/cheerleader party.

"Is she okay?"

"Last I knew. I went outside to make this call, but last I saw she was fine. But he's planning on getting her drunk, and she doesn't seem to realize he keeps refilling her drink when she's not looking. I'd really rather not get involved – it has nothing to do with me, but like I said – Milligan's got it coming to him, and I just thought –"

"I'll handle it," Eli said quickly.

He heard voices in the background, and when Drew spoke again, his voice was lower and closer to the phone. "I have to go. Just…do what you want." The call disconnected before Eli could respond.

"What's up?" Adam asked as Eli handed the phone over, standing up and shoving the napkin into his pocket.

"Owen," he said simply. "I'm sorry, I will make it up to you, but I have to go."

Adam was on his feet too, looking at Eli in concern. "Do you need me to go with you?"

Eli smirked. "No…it'll be my pleasure to handle this on my own."

* * *

><p>It wasn't the first time she'd ever thought this, but as Anya sat on the couch at Marisol's house, surrounded by cheerleaders and football players, she wished she was capable of letting people down. She didn't want to be there. She'd thought about coming up with an excuse to flake out on the party, but these get togethers were tradition, and it was a lot easier to just play along and make nice for the night, instead of trying to make it up to everyone later.<p>

She certainly didn't want to spend any time with Owen, but luckily Marisol had smoothed that situation over from the moment he walked in. He tried to make a comment, asking her where "pretty boy" was, but Marisol had rounded on him. "Owen, I don't think this is the time or place for your paranoid jealousy." She'd smiled sweetly at him and even had the nerve to pat him on the head like a dog, which most everyone had laughed at. And so Owen had shut up about Eli. But it wasn't enough to get Eli off Anya's brain. As she sat on the couch, listening to the music and making small talk where required of her, she found herself continually opening her phone, starting text messages to Eli she never finished.

What did she want to say to him? They hadn't really spoken since she'd left him in the parking lot. It wasn't Eli's fault that those rumors were going around school – he'd tried to cover for her, but still…it was hard to be comfortable around him when she knew all eyes were on them. She wanted to be able to talk to him, but with the rumors people made about them, it only left her feeling worse about everything.

She knew she had told Holly J she wouldn't drink anymore, but when Owen and the other guys started filling drinks, she found herself taking one. Call it peer pressure, call it cowardice…but Anya needed to find a way to mute her thoughts. Her brain was teeming with thoughts of chemo, death, Eli, and the sense that everyone who looked at her now thought they knew something so personal about her. She needed to shut it up, and alcohol was the only way she had to do it. What could it hurt?

* * *

><p>About halfway to Marisol's, it occurred to Eli that he should try calling Anya. He fished his phone from his pocket, thankful that her name was so high on the contact list, and flexed his hand on the steering wheel while he listened to it ring. "Hi, it's Anya! Sorry I missed your call, but please leave me a message and I'll be sure to call you back!"<p>

The phone beeped, and Eli started talking, not entirely sure what he was saying. "Anya, please be okay. Please call me back, and please be okay. Whatever you do, do not go anywhere with Owen alone, I –" He was interrupted by a beeping on his phone. He pulled it away from his ear and looked at the screen. "That's you. Okay. Good."

He pressed the button to change lines. "Anya?"

"Eli," she breathed. He could immediately tell she was drunk. She sounded confused and a little scared.

"Are you okay?"

She was breathing hard. "I think so," she said quietly. "I couldn't figure out how to answer when you called, but Owen showed me –"

Eli tensed. "You're not alone with him, are you?"

She giggled. "Silly, everybody's here. Music – music was really loud though, so Owen let me come in the room where it was quieter. I don't know what happened…I didn't mean to drink so much." She was more drunk than he'd ever experienced before. Eli could tell she was disoriented, and probably had no idea what was happening.

"Please listen to me," he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. "You have to get out of there. Go sit with everyone else – find Drew. Don't stay in that room with him."

"Eli –" she started to say something more, but then he heard a lot of movement.

"Anya?"

"She's a little busy, pretty boy." Owen had the phone now.

"Listen, you sick bastard, you leave her alone!"

Owen laughed. "You act like I'm going to take something she's not willing to give away. Not everyone finds it as hard as you do to get a woman. Trust me, she'll be begging for it."

The call ended, and Eli pressed down harder on the accelerator.

* * *

><p>Eli was gone. Anya reached backwards, above her head where her phone had gone. Everything was so hard to understand. Somehow, she'd drank way more than she intended. She thought she'd only had a couple drinks, but then again, her drinks seemed to take so long to finish, like they were always full….<p>

She felt her phone hit the bed beside her, and someone grabbed her flailing hands, leading them back down to her lap. In doing so, the person's arms ended up wrapped around her. She felt the person's chest press against her back.

Owen. It was Owen. She had to remember that. She was on a bed and Owen was touching her and she didn't want that. She wished she could somehow reverse this, suck the alcohol back out of her body so she could focus on getting rid of him. She didn't know how to stop this.

She felt hot lips in her hair, and she jerked her head away. "Come on, princess," he whispered, one hand moving up to brush her hair off to one side. His lips were on her neck, and she found herself squirming, trying to move away. His lips felt so different from Eli's – smaller, rougher, and they made her skin crawl.

She should be scared. She should be screaming. But everything was so confusing. She kept forgetting who was touching her, forgetting where she was or what was happening. She wanted Eli.

The hands moved again, this time curling around the bottom of her shirt and lifting, calloused fingers trailing up her stomach.

* * *

><p>To say that the rest of the people at the party were surprised when Eli threw the front door open was a major understatement. Most of them seemed to fear it was the police, and immediately started scrambling to hide any evidence of drinking. Others tried to untangle themselves from their respective make out partners, adjusting clothing and wiping their mouths.<p>

"Where are they?" his said, his voice dangerously low as he stalked over to Drew, whose hands were still on the thighs of a cheerleader Eli didn't recognize. Drew looked uncomfortable at Eli addressing him in front of all of them, but jerked his head toward the hallway.

"Second door on the right."

"Hey, you." Eli turned slowly, tipping his head to one side and then the other to stretch his neck. Every inch of his body was tensed, something that would do no good if he was about to get in a fight. It was Marisol, who stumbled a little as she came up to him. "No one invited you."

"No one invited the cops, either, but if you let what's going to happen in that room happen, you better believe they'll be coming too."

Marisol blinked. "She asked him to take her somewhere quieter," she explained, as if that made it okay. "I'm sorry, I know you guys had some sort of thing, but…it looks like she moved on." She shrugged, brushing the whole thing off as if he was some sort of jealous ex-boyfriend.

"Just let him go, Marisol," Drew said behind him, sounding almost bored with the whole discussion. "Sooner he goes and does what he wants, the sooner it's over."

Marisol seemed to consider this, and then nodded slowly. Eli didn't wait for any further objections, and skirted out of the living room, rushing down the hall. Second door on the right….

Owen hadn't even been smart enough to lock the door, which resounded loudly against the wall when Eli threw it open. Owen jumped backwards, stumbling to regain his balance as he moved off the edge of the bed. Anya looked over her shoulder at the door, trying to focus on Eli through hooded eyes. She was sitting on the far edge of the bed, her feet on the floor, her back to Owen. Owen had moved fast, but Eli had still seen enough to know what he was doing.

There might have been a calmer way for Eli to approach it. In fact, before he'd gotten to the door he wasn't even so much angry at Owen as he was just determined to stop him. Maybe if Marisol hadn't stalled him in the living room, he would've gotten here earlier, and things wouldn't have been the way they were. But as it was, Eli entered at the time he did, and saw what he saw, and his rage erased any thoughts of civility.

He rushed forward, shoving Owen to the ground. Before Owen could respond, Eli was on top of him, straddling him as he landed punch after punch. After a few punches square to the face, Owen got the better of him, reaching up, grabbing his fist, and twisting his arm. He pushed up and to the side, slamming Eli to the ground. He was on his knees between Eli's legs, and Eli saw stars when the first punch landed near his mouth. The hand that Owen had used to catch Eli's fist found its way to his throat, pinning him to the ground.

He regained his senses in time to see Owen pull his arm back for another punch, but before he could deliver, Anya was there, her hands clamping around Owen's elbow and holding it back. He pushed backwards, and the forced knocked the already unstable Anya backwards. Eli heard a crash and saw a pop of light – no doubt she'd knocked the lamp off the nightstand table and broken it.

Her distraction was all he needed, though. Owen hesitated, realizing what he'd done to Anya, and his grip on Eli's throat loosened. Eli grabbed his arm with both his hands and pushed him to the side, jumping up when Owen fell over. He kicked at Owen, making contact but not really seeing, or caring, where.

A crowd had started to assemble at the door, but it was Drew who ran in, pushing Eli backwards and standing between the two of them. Owen didn't get up off the floor, but glared up at Eli, holding his jaw. "Enough," Drew said firmly, pushing Eli back again when he made to move around him. Eli stopped, seeing he wasn't going to get any further with Owen that night, and shook his head, trying to straighten out his hair.

"Anya?" Everyone was standing outside the room, crowded in the hall, and Chantay had pushed her way closest to the door. She was looking in horror at Anya, who had pulled herself into a sitting position, pressed into the corner made by the nightstand and bed. She was trying to curl into a ball, her knees drawn to her chest in hopes that her jeans would cover the fact that she was only wearing a bra on top.

Eli watched as Drew's eyes followed to where Chantay was looking, and saw the way his jaw clenched. Good, Eli found himself thinking. Maybe this would teach him to have a little more courage, and not wait so long to do something himself. Drew looked away, and addressed the floor when he spoke. "This has gotten completely out of hand."

"Pretty boy just can't stand that Anya wants to know what a real man's like," Owen snarled.

"Shut up!" Drew barked over his shoulder, once again holding out his hand to stop Eli from moving forward again. "You need to leave. All of you. We're _all_ going home. Now."

He turned then, putting his hand under Owen's arm and hoisting him up. Eli was glad to see that when Owen hesitated at the doorway, Drew gave him a shove in the back. "Seriously, we're leaving," Drew repeated, when those in the hall continued to gawk. Finally, they started down the hall and Drew looked back at Eli. "It's Marisol's house and all, so…five minutes?" Eli nodded quickly, and Drew shut the door behind him, leaving Eli alone with Anya.

The first matter of business was getting her properly clothed again. He found her shirt on the bed, but found that one sleeve was ripped pretty badly and thought better of giving it back to her. Lucky for the both of them, he believed in the power of dressing in layers, so he quickly threw off his jacket and pulled off the dark blue Henley he was wearing underneath it, leaving a white t-shirt that he covered with his jacket.

Anya hadn't moved, her arms around her knees and her head buried in them. The broken lamp lay only inches from her, so Eli was careful as he approached her, but he still heard the glass from the lightbulb crunch under his sneakers. "Anya," he said quietly. "It's okay now. I'm here."

She shook her head, trying to bury it even deeper. "Wanted you here before," he heard her whisper.

He felt as if he'd been stabbed. "I know," he managed. "I got here as soon as I could. Can you just…can you take this shirt for me? I need to take you out of here." He crouched down next to her, careful to move slowly and breathe lightly, terrified that he would scare her. She moved just enough so that he could see one of her eyes. He hated how much fear he saw reflected back at him, and it took all his self control not to go find Owen right then and finish what he started. She lifted a shaking arm, grabbing the shirt from him. He moved back then, turning around and sitting by the far side of the bed while she put it on.

"Where do I go?" she finally asked, her voice thick.

He swallowed. Bullfrog and Cece were home, and he wasn't sure how to explain all this to them, but he couldn't very well just drop her off at her house as if nothing had happened. But he remembered what his parents had told him how many times before – "If something really bad happens, just know that if there's anything we can do, we'll do it – no questions asked." _"At least not until it's over and done and you're ready to talk"_, Cece always added. She always did love learning all the juicy details.

"You're coming home with me," he said firmly. "And you're staying with me as long as it takes for you to be okay."

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 10: Nothing Else Matters – **__Bullfrog and Cece try to catch up, Eli and Anya spend the night together, and Eli gets a shock._

**A/N:** Poor Anya. :( To clarify, Owen didn't rape her or anything, but he did do some stuff he shouldn't have...lucky Eli got there when he did. Thank you all again for all your awesome reviews, you guys are the best!


	10. Nothing Else Matters

_**Chapter Ten:**_** Nothing Else Matters**

When she was ready, Eli helped her stand, pretending not to notice as she did her pants up. She was trembling from the fight and unstable because of the alcohol, so Eli put one arm behind her to steady her, while she clung to his other arm. By the time they got out to the living room, everyone was gone, except for Drew and Marisol. Marisol was eyeing Eli, looking like she wanted to say something to him, but decided against it. Drew ignored them as they walked out the door.

She tried to open the car door herself, but her hand fumbled with the handle, so he opened it for her, holding it open as she slid in. She fumbled with her seatbelt as he moved around to get in the car himself, but she had it sorted out herself by the time he had the key in the ignition.

He wished he'd been home when he'd gotten the news, because his house was closer to Marisol's than the Dot. They arrived in front of his house in almost no time at all. As he shut the car off, he turned to Anya, who was holding her head with one of her hands. "Stay here, okay? I just need to tell my parents you're going to be coming in, so they don't freak out." She nodded, but he wasn't sure she really heard him, and he hurried out of the car and across the lawn.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Eli was realizing how hard Owen had hit him. His jaw ached, and he found his whole body was aching, no doubt from the tension that he'd felt during the whole fight. He suddenly felt more tired than he should have, and just wanted to sleep.

He found Bullfrog and Cece curled up on the couch watching a movie. They looked up when he entered, and Bullfrog immediately paused the movie, Cece jumping up and going to him. "Eli, baby, what happened?" She reached for his face but he pulled away, knowing he must have a bruise and not wanting to feel the sting when she touched it.

"Do you guys remember telling me before that if something bad happened, you'd do whatever to help me, no questions asked?" Bullfrog was standing behind his wife now, looking Eli's face over carefully.

Cece looked terrified. "Honey, tell us who did this to you."

"Mom, please," Eli said. "Do you remember telling me that?"

"Of course we do, Eli," Bullfrog said, a strange expression on his face that Eli couldn't quite interpret. "What do you need us to do?"

Eli closed his eyes for a moment. "There's this girl –"

He opened his eyes to see Cece's eyebrows raise in surprise. "A girl hit you? What did you do to her?"

"Nothing! It wasn't a girl that hit me." Bullfrog moved past him, but Eli kept looking at his mom. "Please just believe me when I say I didn't do anything wrong here."

"Is this girl you're referring to the same one sitting in your car right now, bud?" Eli turned and saw Bullfrog had lifted a slate in the blinds and was looking outside. Cece brushed past him and joined her husband at the window.

"Eli, who is that? That's not Clare…."

Eli fought to bite back a sarcastic remark. "I know it's not Clare. Her name is Anya, and just…look, I don't want to get into it right now, but let's just say she needed some help, and I helped her, and I need her to stay here tonight."

Bullfrog turned his head and looked at Eli. "Now, I know I told you you'd get over Clare and all, but I think it's a little soon for a girl to be spending the night. I know sex seems like all fun and games at your age – and believe me, it can be – but it can carry some consequences too -"

"Dad, come on!" Eli snapped, his impatience getting the better of him. He ran his fingers over his eyebrows, trying to calm down. This wasn't their fault –they were way behind in what was going on his life, and as traumatizing as his father's advice on sex was, he was just trying to help. "I am not asking you for permission to have sex with her. I just need her to stay here because I can't leave her on her own right now. So either you can let me bring her in here, or we're going to sit out in my car all night."

Cece walked back over to him, giving him a sad smile. "Of course she can stay, sweetie. We're just worried about you."

"I understand, mom, but I'm fine." He started to head to the door, but Bullfrog stopped him.

"Just tell me one thing. Did you at least give him worse than he gave you?"

Eli smirked. "As if you could expect any less?" With that, he raced back outside to find Anya resting her head on the window, her finger tracing along the window track. He waved at her from the front of the car and waited till she saw him and moved before he opened her door. "All set," he said, trying to keep his voice bright.

She walked behind him, slowly but more steadily than he anticipated, but she froze when they got to the door. Of course his parents wouldn't have had the forethought to go somewhere else, and were still in the living room, sitting on the couch and obviously waiting for them to come in. "Right," Eli said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "Anya, this is my mom, Cece, and my dad, Bullfrog. Guys, this is Anya MacPherson – we're in French class together."

Anya was holding onto the doorframe with one hand, looking rather surprised at seeing them. She glanced at Eli nervously, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing. Her makeup was smudged, she smelled of alcohol, she was drunk, and worst of all, she was wearing Eli's shirt. None of that screamed 'Look at the nice girl I just brought home, Mom and Dad!'

Cece was looking at her, and Eli saw the way her eyebrows raised as she recognized the shirt she had on. He was holding Anya's original shirt in his hand, but he had wadded it up so much that he didn't think she noticed. "It's very nice to meet you," Anya said carefully, and Eli could tell from the way she inhaled after that she tried very hard to sound stone cold sober as she said it.

"Nice to meet you too, dear," Cece said, smiling in a way Eli knew she didn't really mean.

He lightly grabbed Anya's forearm, and felt the way she flinched. Cursing himself for even trying to touch her, he jerked his head toward the bedroom door. "Come on," he said, and the two went into his room. He shut the door behind him, not caring what his parents thought of it.

"Please just take my bed tonight," he implored, leading her to the bed and sitting her on it. He tossed her shirt into the far corner of the room, knowing as he did so that his therapist would have wildly disapproved of the move. But he didn't care. Tonight was not the night for progress, not after everything.

It appeared Anya's adrenaline had worn off as well, leaving her just as exhausted as he felt, because she didn't complain, just kicked her shoes off and brought her legs up onto the bed. He thought he should probably offer her something more comfortable to sleep in than her jeans, but before he could voice the thought, she looked up at him, her eyelids dancing as she tried to stay focused. "Stay with me?" she asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't really want to be alone tonight. And you…you make me feel safe, so I want you to stay." She lifted her hand, holding it out to him, and Eli froze. _It's the alcohol talking_, he tried to tell himself. Anya would never ask him to stay otherwise.

But what did that mean? Did it mean he had to turn her down? Where was the line here? It wasn't as if she was suggesting they have sex, just actually sleep together – what was the harm in sleeping, really? But would she be mad the next day when she realized he was really there?

Eli was too tired to overanalyze the situation. For once, his exhaustion outweighed his neuroses. He removed his jacket and his shoes, moving around Anya and joining her on the bed. He propped the pillows up at the head of the bed, so that when he laid back against them he was still half sitting – a suitable compromise in his mind between staying with Anya and not looking more suggestive than he wanted to be. He waited for Anya to move, unsure how she intended to lay.

She was quite a bit bolder than he expected, but as he watched her move, he realized it was as much out of exhaustion as anything else. Like him, she just didn't have the energy to care about what they should be doing, what was proper or what wouldn't be taken the wrong way. So she laid down on her side, her knees against his left leg. She slid her right arm behind his back, around his waist, and laid her head against his chest, her left hand resting on his shoulder. Her hair was right below his chin, and over the stale alcohol on her breath, he could smell her shampoo – honey and vanilla.

He leaned back against the pillows, his jaw pounding, and wrapped his arms around Anya, who he was pretty sure was already asleep, closing his eyes.

* * *

><p>It was cold without her shirt, and she was reaching for her phone, determined to get ahold of Eli again. To tell him to come get her, that she didn't want to be there, to just escape….<p>

His hand was on the button of her jeans, fumbling to undo it as he bit her on the shoulder. It hurt, and she wanted to move away, but his other arm was circled around her exposed stomach, holding her against him.

_"Anya."_

She whimpered, her hand finally making contact with her phone. The hand disappeared from her jeans and she was happy, but only for a moment, as the next her phone was ripped from her hand and she heard it crash against the wall. Then the hand was back, pulling at her zipper.

_"It's okay. Stop."_

Anya knew she was supposed to be fighting, supposed to be screaming, supposed to be saying no. How did she even get here? She felt his hand on her now, fingers playing at the edge of her underwear. _No._

"_Anya. Stop. _Anya!"

She lurched forward, gasping. Looking around wildly, Anya found she didn't recognize anything about the room she was in. How could that be? What was the last thing she remembered? She covered her face, too scared to look around anymore. _Owen_. She was still with him, it wasn't over.

"Anya, it's okay." Anya's hand slid down her face. That soft, scared voice wasn't Owen at all. She whirled around, coming face to face with a very startled Eli. "Eli?"

* * *

><p>He'd been woken by her thrashing around, hands clawing at her own stomach, pulling at his shirt and making long red marks just above her jeans. Half disoriented, he'd tried to wake her, softly at first but getting more firm as she whimpered, tears falling from her eyes even as she slept.<p>

She didn't know she was in his room when she woke, and she hadn't even realized she was with him until she looked back, saying his name like she couldn't believe it was him. "Yeah, it's me," he responded with a smirk.

"What – what happened?" she asked slowly, looking down at them on the bed, then looking around the room, trying to orient herself.

His stomach felt queasy. "How much do you remember?"

She blinked at him, a concentrated look on her face while she tried to figure out how much she did remember. "I remember going to the party, I remember trying to talk to you, I remember…" she hesitated, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "…I remember Owen, and I remember –" she looked at him sharply. Her fingers came up, running softly along his jaw. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, Eli."

* * *

><p>He looked at her as if she was crazy. "Sorry for what?"<p>

Anya's head was pounding, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and never come out. She was stupid, stupid, stupid and this was all her fault. Poor Eli. The whole left side of his face was bruised, and all because she hadn't had the courage to tell her friends no when they asked her to the stupid party. All because she hadn't paid enough attention and drank too much. All because she couldn't handle her own life, and he had to keep coming in and fix it for her. "Your face…" she whispered, pulling her hand away when she realized it might be hurting him.

Eli snorted. "I don't think it's your job to apologize for my face, but it's good to know how you feel about it."

She managed a weak smile for his benefit. He was trying to be cute, but really…she didn't deserve that. Not after everything he'd been through for her. "You know what I meant."

"Actually, I don't. I haven't gotten the chance to look…how badass does it make me look?" He tilted his head and made a face, as if posing for a picture.

"This isn't funny!" she insisted, swatting at his arm. "You could've gotten seriously hurt, and for what?"

He straightened out, all laughter gone from his face. "First of all, I wouldn't have gotten seriously hurt. This was not my first fight, and I can guarantee you it isn't going to be my last. Secondly…'for what'? You said you remember what happened…are you sure you remember?"

She knew he didn't mean it the way it sounded, but it made her skin crawl to think about. She knew she was lucky, she was _so_ lucky that Eli had shown up when he did. It made her uncomfortable to think of what Owen did, but it was nothing compared to what he could have, and would have, done if Eli hadn't shown up. But still, he'd done things she hadn't wanted him to, and she'd sat there and allowed it to happen, even if she hadn't really meant to. And he'd taken off her shirt and everyone had seen her that way, and she just wished she could bleach that image from everyone's minds.

At the time, she'd barely understood what was happening until she saw Owen punch Eli. It was as if things suddenly became clear, and her only thought had been rescuing the boy who was rescuing her, and so she'd grabbed Owen, but he'd thrown her off. As if triggered by the memory, she felt her lower back twinge and she grabbed it, wincing. "What's wrong?" Eli asked immediately.

"Nothing."

"No, you're hurt, aren't you? Let me see." He reached toward her, but thought better of it. Of course – if he tried to help, it'd be like Owen, and he didn't want her to think that way of him. Begrudgingly, she turned to the side, lifting up the back of her shirt on the side where it'd hurt.

Eli hissed, drawing in air through his teeth. "The nightstand?" he guessed, and she nodded, pushing the shirt back down and turning around. "Anything else?" he asked, eyeing her carefully.

She considered lying, but after everything, she figured Eli at least deserved honesty. Besides, maybe telling him would make the whole thing more justified. Pretending she was fine cheapened the reason for him coming at all. She pulled the neck of the shirt over to the side, turning again to show him the bite marks on her shoulder. She looked away as he examined them, but she when put the shirt back she caught the look of rage in his eyes. "I'm fine," she told him.

The look didn't change. "He won't be."

"It doesn't need to go any further than this, Eli, it really doesn't," Anya said. "It's only going to lead to more trouble for you that you don't deserve. He didn't really…_do_ anything."

He leaned forward, still looking intense. "He did enough." He paused, licking his lips. "Are you sure you aren't blocking anything out or forgetting anything?"

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "Things are fuzzy, but I know it didn't go any further than it was when you came in."

He closed his eyes. "I think you need to tell me what it was he was doing when I came in."

"What? Why? You…you saw."

"I know. But if you can't name it, it's going to control you." He grabbed her hands, making sure she was looking him in the eyes. "Do not give him the power of your silence."

She wanted to tell him no. Owen didn't have any power over her, he hadn't done anything to deserve power, but…Eli had a point. If she allowed it to be something she couldn't say, it would only be scarier, something harder for her to deal with than it needed to be. She looked down at the floor, pulling her hands from Eli's. She would do what he asked, but she wouldn't face him while she did it. "He was touching me. His hand was…down there, and he was touching things. But it didn't go any further than that –" she looked at him, "I swear it didn't."

* * *

><p>Eli saw the pleading look in her eyes, and he realized what she was afraid of. That he would think she was Owen's now, that there was some part of her that belonged to him. As much as she didn't want to say it, she also wanted to make sure he didn't read more into it than there was. He gave her a half smile, wishing he could touch her, kiss her. He wanted to be able to erase Owen's hold on her, and he wanted her to be able to be his if she wanted. He would take care of her, he would deserve her, even if no one else ever had before. But he couldn't, too afraid she'd pull away, too afraid to push before she was ready and ruin the whole thing.<p>

"I believe you," he said instead, folding his hands together to keep them still. "But all that really matters is that you're going to be okay."

"How did you even know I needed you?"

"Drew," he said simply, but then saw how confused Anya looked. "I was with Adam, and he called Adam to try to find me. Owen was bragging that it was going to be 'his night', so to speak, and Drew thought he'd give me the head's up."

Anya laughed bitterly. "Good to know I can be in a house full of people claiming to be my friends, and the best anyone can do is call someone else to come get me."

"They're cowards," Eli said automatically. He was angry with every single person at that party, and he didn't care whether Anya considered them friends or not. "See, one of the perks of being a 'misfit'…you don't care about keeping up appearances. They're all too afraid to ruffle feathers, to stand up for something when the others won't, so they just shut up. I don't."

Anya smiled at him. "That's not because you're a misfit, Eli," she said, placing her hand on his knee. "It's because you're amazing."

She started to lean forward, and Eli moved forward too – not enough to close the gap between them, but enough to show her he was on the same page as her – and then there was a knock at the door. Anya scooted back as if burned, her hand flying off of Eli's leg.

"Yeah?" Eli called out.

The door cracked open and Bullfrog's head popped in. He glanced on Anya, seemed to take a quick survey of their positions in relation to each other, and then looked straight at Eli. "You have guests."

Eli glanced over at Anya, who was looking at him with raised eyebrows. Looking back at Bullfrog, he asked, "And they are?"

Bullfrog hesitated. "Adam," he started, and then, looking almost apologetic, "and Clare."

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 11: Not Ready to Make Nice –**__ Eli gets backed into a corner, Anya sees Eli for who he really is, and a line gets drawn in the sand._

**A/N:** You guys are just the best! Seriously, you have no idea how much your reviews mean to me. I'm so happy you're all enjoying the story, and I loved some of the choice names you had for Owen. Trust me, neither Anya nor Eli are done with him yet. But for now, Eli's gotta deal with his Clare problem. Thank you again for all your support and kind words! :)


	11. Not Ready to Make Nice

_**Chapter Eleven: **_**Not Ready to Make Nice**

Oh, this was bad. Anya didn't take her eyes off Eli, and saw the panic in his eyes as the news sunk in. Clare, of all people, was here, _now?_

Eli waved Bullfrog off, telling him to tell them he needed a couple minutes to get presentable, and as Bullfrog shut the door, he scrambled off the bed. He started pacing, his hand balled into a fist over his mouth.

Anya had thought she couldn't feel any worse about the whole situation, but now she did. She cursed the luck they had. Eli went out of his way to be helpful and kind to her, and now he was going to have to pay the price for it. There had to be something she could do….

"I'll stay in here," she said. Her voice seemed to startle Eli, who stopped in his tracks and looked at her as if he'd forgotten she was there. "You don't have to tell anyone I'm here."

His lips scrunched as he considered it. "I don't want to lie –" he paused, then corrected himself "—I don't need to lie." Anya understood the difference, and she felt her stomach squirm with delight at it. Not wanting to lie meant he would tell the truth simply because he preferred it over dishonesty, but he wasn't happy about it. Not needing to lie meant something different, it meant that even if he was the type that lied, he wouldn't, because he had nothing to hide about them.

"Still," Anya said calmly, "you might want to anyway." She couldn't help thinking he wasn't thinking clearly. This was _Clare_. He'd crashed his car for the girl. Sure, he'd beat up Owen for _her_, but…she doubted she really trumped Clare in much of anything. And that was okay, wasn't it? She could feel the disappointment inside her, but she tried to brush it off. Eli was so wonderful, being so kind, and she couldn't let him blow his chances with this girl because of her.

He turned, moving to his desk. She watched him open drawer after drawer, piling on jewelry, sliding rings on his fingers and fitting a black cuff on his wrist and looping several necklaces around his neck. Then he moved to the closet, pulling out a red shirt, which he slid over the white t-shirt he'd had on, and then he dug out a jacket. His movements were frantic, but with each piece he put on, he seemed to be getting more at ease. She saw some of the tension leave his shoulders as he fitted the jacket in place.

Anya couldn't claim to understand enough about psychology to diagnose his behavior, but she flashed back to her mother's therapist's talk of mental armor and Eli's confession of his hoarding problem. Perhaps that's what all the grandeur was for, all the jewelry and the elaborate clothing. Each piece was a piece of armor, a way for him to feel protected and together.

Satisfied with his ensemble, he turned back around, looking at her. He seemed sad, confused, and scared all at once. She wished she could go with him, stand by him and not let him get hurt by whatever was about to happen. But no, that would only make things worse, she reminded herself. So she gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile and whispered, "Good luck."

* * *

><p>Clare was sitting on the couch, perched on the very edge of the cushion, and Adam was next to her, standing against the arm of the couch. Eli shut his bedroom door behind his back, reminding himself to breathe. This was way outside his comfort zone – he liked knowing exactly how a conversation was going to go before he had it. He spent so much of his time thinking what he would say to people, what they would say back, laying out each possible 'what-if' scenario in his head and preparing himself for any possible outcome – but he'd had no time, and he felt like he'd pushed out of a plane without a parachute.<p>

He had hardly gotten halfway across the living room when Clare's eyes widened and she flew off the couch, closing the distance between them. She grabbed his chin and turned his head. "What did you do?" she demanded.

He didn't answer, relishing the feeling of her skin against his. He hated his heart in that moment, hated the way it ached to have her so near, hated the way it ached for leaving Anya alone in his room. He wanted to bring her out with him, to face Clare with her by his side, because they had done nothing wrong and had nothing to be ashamed of – but he was ashamed. Ashamed because she wouldn't understand, ashamed that he even _cared_ that she wouldn't. He had given her everything, crashed his car, planned a great trip, tried to make her happy, and she'd thrown it all back in his face. He should be _angry_, he should be glad she was gone because if she didn't want what he had to offer than she didn't deserve it and there was someone else who would appreciate it. But he wasn't angry, he was only hurt and embarrassed and alone.

"Eli!" Clare said when he didn't answer. "Who have you been fighting?"

He looked past her to Adam, who was taking in his injury. After a moment, Adam nodded to himself, and Eli realized Drew had probably told him something about what went on and his bruise only confirmed the story. He looked back at Clare, seeing that familiar fear in her eyes. "Owen Milligan," he replied. Clare seemed to finally notice she was still touching him, and she backed up, her hand falling down.

She turned to look at Adam. "Was he giving you a hard time again?"

Adam's eyes widened, and he looked over her shoulder at Eli. It was clear he was willing to lie if Eli wanted him to. "It has nothing to do with Adam," Eli said, and Clare turned back around.

"Then I don't get it," Clare responded, "are you just going around picking fights now?"

Eli's mouth opened in surprise at the accusation. "Is that what you think I do? Just go around picking fights for the hell of it?"

She bit her lip, trying to decide what she wanted to say next. "I just think you're in a very dark place right now, and I think you might be a little lost and looking for some way to cope. I think that the last time you can remember feeling really in control was when you were facing off with Fitz all the time, and maybe you're looking to do that again with Owen…." She trailed off, looking uncomfortable but determined at the same time.

He knew, even as he felt the anger surge through him, that she was trying to help. She could not have been more wrong, but it was coming from a place of genuine concern. Clare wasn't trying to be mean, she was honestly afraid for him. But that, right there, was exactly why they were so far apart, even as they stood inches from each other. She had always accepted him for who he was and what he'd gone through, but now she thought it'd gone too far, that she needed to try to save him. It was almost funny to him, that after everything he'd been through, she thought a simple breakup was going to be what pushed him over the edge.

"Why are you here?" he asked, choosing the only thing he could think of to say that he had no chance of regretting later. If he tried to tell her how wrong she was, he'd only get angry, and he didn't want to yell at her, not when he knew she was only trying to help.

Clare bit her lip, glancing back at Adam. She inched back, widening the space between them. It hurt him to see how she tried to distance herself, as if afraid of him in some way. He wasn't the person she thought he was – all she saw were car crashes and fist fights and a lost little boy – she had lost the person he really was. "Adam didn't want to come," she said, "but I made him. I needed to talk to you, and I wasn't sure you'd listen if I came alone."

That was wrong. It didn't matter the circumstances, Clare still meant enough to him that he would've listened to her talk about anything, no matter how bad it made him feel. "What'd you want to talk about?"

"I am seriously scared for you, Eli. I don't know what's going on with you right now, but something's not right. You avoid my phone calls, you're picking fights with people, you're hanging out with people you never would've talked to before –"

There it was. Without knowing it, he'd been waiting for this moment, and he was pretty sure he sensed a hint of jealousy in her voice as she alluded to Anya.

* * *

><p>Anya didn't mean to eavesdrop. She really, really didn't. But it wasn't her fault the walls in Eli's house were rather thin, and that his living room wasn't that large, so as Clare talked to Eli, they weren't all that far from Eli's bedroom door.<p>

She wished she couldn't hear them, because everything Clare was saying was making her angry, and she was doing all she could to restrain herself from saying something. She couldn't fathom how Eli was standing it, letting her talk about him that way. Before this, Anya had never had any problem with Clare, but now she just seemed nosy and overbearing.

Eli wasn't some fragile egg rolling off a table, about to plummet to his demise. There was no denying he was sad and admittedly, a little messed up, but none of that compared to how brave and strong he was. Not because of his fighting Owen – that was all testosterone and a boyish need to be a hero – no, Eli was strong for an entirely different reason.

People often forget how much courage there can be in even getting out of bed in the morning. Eli was strong because, after everything, he still got up each morning and tried – tried to feel alive, tried to make jokes and smile and have friends and make others happy and fight for what he believed was right. Of all the people she knew, Eli had the most excuses to give up. Beyond everything that had happened to him, his mind was so overactive and fragile and she could see how he struggled not to give into his own darkness. But that was the point – he struggled, and he won. He could have taken the easy road, and he didn't. He put himself out there and he took chances and he gave so much of himself to being alive, even when life hadn't given him much in return.

Maybe Clare thought she was helping, but Anya knew without even trying that this wasn't the way to reach Eli. Sitting him down and staging some sort of pseudo-intervention would do nothing but push him away. Helping him meant accepting his challenges and rolling with them. Clare had known that once, hadn't she? Hadn't she accepted Eli as he was, loved him for the unpredictable guy he could be?

But now she thought she'd pushed him too far. That by leaving, giving up on him, she'd isolated him to the point where he would crack. But that wasn't giving Eli nearly enough credit for everything he'd already fought through. This was another struggle, but nothing he couldn't handle, especially when he _wasn't_ alone. He had Anya now.

* * *

><p>"I can't make new friends?" Eli found himself asking.<p>

"Eli, she isn't your type," Clare explained. "She's a wonderful person, but she's not your sort of girl –"

"You weren't either," he countered. "People aren't just what one person sees them to be. And this isn't about Anya, anyway. You just said she's a wonderful person, so you wouldn't come all the way out here to sit down and 'have a chat' just because I'm spending time with her."

Clare frowned. "You're right, but I feel like it's indicative of the bigger problem." She turned, walking over and sitting down on the couch before continuing. "You're running from your problems, and you're throwing one thing after another in between yourself and your feelings. Picking fights and going places you never went before and being with people you never used to be with, just to distance yourself from how you really feel."

She wasn't wrong, Eli had to admit. Yeah, it was easier not to obsess over their breakup and become consumed with self-loathing over his own failure if he was out with people or going out of his way to help Anya. Sure, helping Anya with her problems made him forget about his own. "But what does that have to be such a bad thing?" he voiced his last thought out loud. He gestured wildly with his arms as he spoke. "Why do I have sit here and moan on and on about something I can't change? Why do I have sit around and brood over what's gone wrong in my life? Everyone wants me to be okay, but then they sit and criticize the way I choose to be okay. Yeah, maybe I'm running from my problems, but it's because there's really no other way to deal with them. Because when I put my energy into something else – something good, something that makes me feel like I'm actually doing something worthwhile – I can stop hating myself so much for everything I've done wrong and everyone I've failed.

"I can't fix things with you, Clare, at least not in any way that I can see. And I certainly can't ever fix anything with Julia. But I can do things better in future. And yes, I realize it's all one big defense mechanism and I'm just hiding how I really feel and all of that – but it's like my dad told me, time heals everything. So I'm giving it time to heal without picking at the scab every day, and I don't know why you won't let me do that."

His voice had risen, and Clare looked like she was about to cry. "I just don't want you to get hurt," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled. "I'm already hurt. So you need to let me deal how _I _need to. Trust me to handle myself." She was wringing her hands, biting her lip. She wasn't sure she could trust him to handle himself – and given his track record, he couldn't entirely blame her, but he needed her to let him do it anyway.

There was a key turning in the lock, and then the front door opened, Cece clambering through with an armload of groceries. She spotted Eli over the bags. "Hey, honey, glad to see you're up. I ran to the store to get some things, I thought I'd make breakfast for you and your friend –" she broke off, finally noticing Adam and Clare. "Oh…hi, Clare, Adam, I wasn't expecting you to be here," she said with fake brightness, smiling to both of them before glancing back at Eli, looking mortified.

Eli didn't want to look at Clare, but found his eyes snapped back to her. She was staring at him, her mouth open. She was a smart girl, he'd always known that, and right now she was too smart for her own good. She knew he hadn't been alone, knew exactly who was there and where she was, knew that she'd been there all night, _she knew_. He chanced a glance at Adam, whose face was red. Eli imagined he probably blamed himself for not thinking Anya would be there, but it certainly wasn't his fault. Eli wished now that he had brought Anya out with him, even if it would have been awful for everyone, simply because then he wouldn't look like he was trying to hide it. He wasn't, but…there hadn't exactly been a good time to bring it up.

"I'm just gonna go in the kitchen and get started on this," Cece said, not breaking her smile. "You come find me when you're ready, sweetie." Eli watched her rush out of the living room, and when he looked back, Clare was standing, her face blank.

"Clare, this isn't what it looks like –" he started, but Clare cut him off.

"It doesn't matter, Eli," she said, her voice higher than it probably should have been. "What you do with your time is your business. Like you said…I shouldn't stop you from dealing with things the way you want to." The look she gave him was icy. He knew she wouldn't believe it if he tried to tell her nothing had happened, and anyway, he couldn't betray Anya by telling Clare the real reasons she was there. Clare looked over at Adam. "We should get going, Eli's busy."

Adam looked from Clare to Eli, torn. He knew Eli would have wanted them to stay, give him a chance to explain it, but Clare wasn't going to hear it anyway. So Eli jerked his head toward the door, letting Adam know it was okay if they went. It had to be okay. "You should've said you already had company," Clare said evenly, taking a step toward him. The hurt in her eyes was evident. But she shook her head slightly, as if trying to shake the hurt off. They both knew she didn't really have the right to be hurt, but it bothered Eli all the same. "Just know that if…if this doesn't work out the way you want it to…I'm always here to talk to."

She turned and walked to the door then. Adam frowned at Eli, but said nothing, turning and following Clare. The door shut behind them, and then Eli was alone. He felt in that moment as if the consequence of that conversation was like a speeding train, barreling at him, leaving him with only moments left where he could pretend it wasn't done, he hadn't hurt her this way.

As the door opened behind him, the train of emotion crashed into him. Clare was gone, and this time she probably wouldn't be coming back. She was hurt, hurt because he moved on, hurt because he was willing to put her behind him in favor of finding something new. He suddenly felt like a liar, for all the times he'd told her he'd wanted her forever and would be lost without her, because he didn't have her and he was moving on, just like he said he couldn't do.

But no – _she_ had lied first. She had broken her promises, taken her love away – didn't that give him the right to do so in return?

He turned around, and before he even saw her, Anya threw her arms around him, and he heard a small sob escape her throat as she buried her head in the crook of his neck. He didn't move, stunned that she had been so bold. "What's wrong?"

She lifted her head away from him, but didn't look up. "Just…you're wonderful. You're really, truly wonderful and you should know that." He knew she must have heard everything, as the walls weren't exactly soundproof around there. She'd heard all about how he hated himself, how he was hiding and just trying to put himself back together, she'd heard all of it, and she was here. He found that he was so glad she was, because truth be told…he needed her.

He shook his head softly, whispered, "Thank you," and circled his arms around her, closing his eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 12: Won't Back Down – **Owen makes a deal with Anya__, Eli suffers a setback, and Adam plays matchmaker._

**A/N:** I'm seriously just in awe of you guys! I'm so happy you all like this story the way you do, and you have no idea how much your kind words mean to me! :) I finished chapter 13 last night (suuuch a bittersweet chapter, in my opinion), and there's still plenty story left to go. Thank you all again, you're the best!


	12. Won't Back Down

_**Chapter Twelve:**_** Won't Back Down**

Anya managed to avoid running into Owen on Monday. She had thought it was because she'd made sure to spend as little time in the hallways as possible, but as Eli pointed out in French (he had taken to sitting next to her in class now, instead of in the far back corner), Owen wasn't at school at all. He supposed it was because Owen was too embarrassed to show his face with the injuries Eli had given him. This thought comforted Anya, who let her guard down the next day, thinking that if Eli was right, Owen would still be absent.

So when she was walking down the hall after third period, the last thing she expected was for him to grab her arm from behind. She whirled around, knowing before she even saw him who it was. She was almost smug as she looked at his face, proud of Eli for giving him a fat lip, a black eye, and a large bruise across his cheekbone. "We need to talk," Owen said, his face expressionless.

"I don't actually think we do," Anya said tersely, ripping her arm out of his hold.

"Suit yourself," Owen said, shrugging, "I'm sure the cops will be willing to listen instead, when I tell them about your boyfriend's vigilante nonsense the other night."

She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. "No, we'll talk."

He smirked. "I thought you'd see things my way. Come on." She felt queasy following him anywhere, but she wasn't going to allow Eli to pay the price for any of this. Owen led the way to an empty classroom, and after moving aside to let Anya in, closed the door behind her. Anya grimaced, folding her arms across her chest so he wouldn't see the way her hands were shaking.

"We need to set some things straight," Owen began. "And I'm going to need you to make sure that he doesn't try to come after me again."

"I think that would mostly depend on whether or not _you_ learn to keep your hands to yourself," she replied. She made sure to keep her voice as cool and angry as she could, glad it didn't betray her by shaking.

Owen's hands balled into fists. "It isn't my problem that he can't keep you satisfied."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "You are not suggesting that I _asked_ for that."

"Oh please," Owen said, rolling his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was high pitched, mocking her. "'Oh, Owen, the music's just so loud. Can't you take me somewhere quiet? It's so loud and I don't like it, please take me away from here.' Come on, Anya, do you really think you're that smooth?"

She felt sick, hearing the things she knew she must have told him. "I was drunk."

"And that's my fault?"

"Actually, it is. Do you think no one noticed how you'd fill my drink up more every time I wasn't looking?"

Owen laughed. "I'm sorry I was trying to help you have a good time! Pardon me for not realizing you were too stupid to not know that your drink should have run out at some point."

She tried to blink back the hot tears of anger springing to her eyes. What he did was wrong. He'd been clever about it, never filling her drink up too much at once, and the more sips she'd taken, the less she'd been able to remember how full it'd been the last time she had it. "That is no excuse. You did it on purpose and I was drunk and you shouldn't have taken advantage."

"Women are unbelievable. _You_ decide to get drunk, _you_ beg me to take you to a bedroom where it's just going to be you and me, and then _you_ get mad at _me_ for doing what you wanted me to do?"

"That was not what I wanted!"

"I didn't hear you saying no."

"You didn't hear me saying yes, either! Sex isn't a 'yes, unless they say no' event. It's 'no, unless they specifically say yes'. End of story."

He rolled his eyes again. "Whatever you say. But it's not like it matters anyway…I don't know if you remember this, but we didn't even have sex."

Her stomach turned at just the thought of it. "I remember just fine, thank you. Don't think I don't realize what you would've done if Eli hadn't shown up when he did."

"Oh yes, Saint Eli, riding to his poor little girlfriend's rescue. Must be hard for him, coming to grips with the fact that you wanted me over him."

Her jaw clenched. "That is not what happened."

"Sure it is. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go report him to the cops for assault right now, MacPherson."

"Umm…because it's _your_ fault that he hit you?" she replied, her voice practically shrill, unable to comprehend the insanity of what he was saying. "He was defending me."

"Who's really going to believe that? Honestly? Look at it for what it really is, Anya. Everyone around school knows you hooked up with him awhile back, and then tried to play it off as 'car trouble'. You embarrassed the poor boy, acting like nothing happened. Then he sees you talking to me and goes after me in the hall in front of plenty of witnesses, and then tracks me down to the party to finish what he started."

Anya was shaking her head, blinking furiously to keep from crying. It was all tears of rage, but he would see it as weakness, and she was not going to give him that. "That is not how it happened," she repeated, "and you know it. You know what you did."

"I'd love to see you prove it." His face lit up in pretend shock. "Oh, that's right, you won't be able to. Because I didn't do anything to you." She wanted to throw up, because she knew he was right. He'd touched her when she hadn't wanted to be touched, but what proof was that? There were still bite marks on her shoulder, but they were fading fast and there was no way to prove he'd done it without her permission. Everyone at the party had heard her ask him to take her somewhere quiet, and like he'd said – everyone at school knew Eli had gone after him already. There was no way anyone would believe her over him, not on this one.

"Spit it out, then," she finally snapped. "I know you're only telling me all this because you want to strike up some deal with me to keep you from going to the cops or you would've just done it anyway. So what is it? What do you want?"

"It's simple, really. All I want is for Goldsworthy to leave me alone. No more fights, no snide little comments – nothing. As far as he's concerned, I don't exist."

"Are you going to leave him alone, too, or are you going to go around terrorizing him and not letting him fight back?"

Owen scoffed. "Like I care to waste any of my time or energy on that little runt. Honestly, I'm beginning to think you two deserve each other."

"What makes you think I can stop him?"

"I don't think that, necessarily. But if anyone could, it'd be you. Everyone knows he doesn't care enough about himself to know what's best. If I went to him with this deal, he'd take it as a challenge, and need to come after me ten times harder just to prove he wasn't scared of me. You're the only one who cares about him enough to save him from himself – which should tell you something about how insignificant he is, but I'll let you find that out on your own."

Anya swallowed back her instinct to defend Eli. Now was not the time to be making Owen angrier. "So that's it? I keep Eli away from you, and you drop the whole thing?"

"That, and you don't tell anyone your little fantasy about what happened that night. Anyone comes to you about it, you tell them exactly what really happened. How you begged to get me alone and then Goldsworthy came after me and you felt sorry for him so you played into his little fantasy about me trying to take advantage of you."

This time, Anya couldn't stop the hot tears that splashed down her cheeks. She wanted to tell him no, to make him pay for what he'd done, but really he hadn't done anything compared to what Eli had done back, and she had no choice. It was all her fault anyway – she'd allowed herself to be alone with him, and now she had to make it right for Eli, no matter what it cost her. "Fine. I'll do it."

The door opened suddenly, startling both of them. Anya looked to the door, grateful for whoever had managed to end her nightmare, and to her surprise found Adam standing there, looking alarmed. "Oh great, it's you," Owen said dryly. "What could you possibly want?"

"Just forgot my book in here last period," Adam said, sliding into the classroom without taking his eyes off Owen. He was a horrible liar. "Didn't realize I was interrupting anything…."

"You weren't," Owen said, shooting a look at Anya. "Just trying to clear things up with Anya here. She's having a little trouble accepting that the people with morals around here aren't interested in sleeping around with her. Isn't that right, Anya?"

If he wasn't so much larger than her and if she had more confidence in her physical strength, she would've punched him in the face right then. As it was, she still considered doing it, figuring that if she could manage to land on one of the spots where he was already bruised, it'd still hurt pretty bad. But then she thought of Eli, and knew that although it wasn't included in their deal, punching Owen would result in Eli getting arrested. But she didn't stop glaring at him as she ground out her answer. "Yes, that's right."

Owen smiled, adjusting his backpack and turned to leave, bumping shoulders with Adam as he left. Once he was gone, Adam turned his attention to Anya, who was hastily trying to wipe the tears off her face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile, "but I could be a lot better if you'd help me with something."

Adam blinked. "What can I do?"

"Look, from what I understand, you're Eli's best friend. And I know that it may not seem like it, because I realize I've brought a lot of trouble into his life, but I only want what's best for him." The only true thing Owen had said in their conversation was that if Eli learned about their deal, he'd go after Owen anyway, just to prove he wasn't afraid. She couldn't let him do that.

"You don't need to justify your friendship with him to me. Eli could do with more friends, and you've been really good to him." He hesitated for a minute, then sighed and continued. "I know he may act like it's some big, tragic love story cut short, but he and Clare had a lot of back and forth stuff. They spent more time questioning their relationship than they ever really spent enjoying it."

"Why are you telling me that?"

"Because I figure Eli would never point it out, but from where I'm standing, you've never made him question things the way he had to with her, and…he needs that. So you don't need to try to explain your friendship to me…I think it's awesome."

She smiled. "Thank you, Adam, that really means a lot to me. But so you know that I don't want anything bad to happen to him. And so I need you to do me a favor."

"Name it."

"I need you to not tell Eli what you just saw. I know he's just looking for an opportunity to finish things with Owen, but it won't end well and I don't want to give him a reason to do it."

Adam looked out the door, considering what she was saying. "I won't say anything. But if he goes after Owen anyway –"

"I will deal with it," Anya said quickly. "I am going to talk to him and try to fix this whole thing. But if he finds out about this, nothing I say will stop him."

* * *

><p>Adam was waiting for Eli at his locker when he got out of fourth period. "To what do I owe this visit?" he asked as he spun his combination lock.<p>

"Nothing," Adam said with a shrug.

"You're a really bad liar, you know that?" He opened his locker, and as usual, several things spilled out. It wasn't as much as had fallen out before, though, and he was proud of himself – he actually thought his locker was fairly neat, all things considered.

Adam bent down to help him pick things up, but straightened up, holding the first thing he'd grabbed. "Eli –"

He pushed everything back into his locker and straightened, looking at what Adam had in his hands. "What?"

"This is the napkin from that night at the Dot, the one with Marisol's address."

"I can see that." He grabbed the napkin from him, placing it back his locker. When he looked back, Adam was looking at him expectantly. "What?"

"When was the last time you threw something away?"

He could feel himself start to sweat. "What are you, the garbage police?"

"Don't avoid the question."

"I don't exactly keep a trash log, so I don't really know."

Adam put his hand on Eli's shoulder. "It's okay. I'm not going to make you throw anything away. But you haven't done it, have you? Not since that party, when Anya got hurt."

He felt sick just thinking about it. He thought about Anya's shirt still laying in the corner of his room, now accompanied by several other things he'd come across since then, things Anya had touched while at his house, items that made him think of that night. "It's only been a few days," he explained, feeling ashamed. "I just need a little bit of time, to know she's okay and it's over and then it'll be alright."

Adam didn't look convinced, but then again, Eli wasn't either. It was one of the first times he'd really stumbled since he'd started his therapy, so he really had no way of knowing if he'd straighten himself out. But it seemed reasonable – it was all connected to worrying about people being hurt, and once she was okay, he could let it go again. "No problem," Adam said, talking in a very calm voice Eli knew was designed to keep him from panicking, "like you said, it's only been a few days. Nothing to worry about right now."

Eli nodded, unable to express how grateful he was to Adam in that moment. He made a silent promise to himself to find one thing to throw out later, a sort of symbolic 'thank you' that Adam hadn't sounded some alarm that he was going off the deep end.

"Not to awkwardly change topics or anything, but what's with the stalling in the Anya department, anyway?"

Eli looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious that you like her, yet you only seem to spend time with her by accident or unfortunate circumstance."

Eli shrugged, shutting his locker. "What do you propose I do then, O Wise One?"

"Ask her out," Adam responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's called dating."

It wasn't as if Eli had never considered it. But until Sunday and the conversation with Clare, it had seemed improper to act upon anything. He didn't want to ask Anya on a date if she would think he was still pining after Clare. But maybe now was finally the right time. "I don't know, man. I haven't exactly had the best track record, and who's to say she'd even say yes anyway?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "First of all, you're putting too much pressure on yourself. It's a date, not a wedding or even a relationship. Just take her to dinner or something and see how it goes. Second of all, she could not be more into you, and you apparently are the only person who doesn't see that."

Despite himself, Eli felt himself smile. "You think?"

* * *

><p>Anya had spent the whole afternoon trying to decide exactly what she could say to Eli to erase any idea of going after Owen from his mind, and by the time French rolled around she still hadn't thought of anything. He was too good at reading her. If she just asked him to drop it, he'd want to know why, tell her she couldn't let Owen win that way. And yes, she <em>was<em> letting Owen win, but it was only because the alternative meant _Eli_ lost, and that wasn't an acceptable option.

He was late for French, and Anya found herself panicking, constantly checking the clock as time went by. It wasn't as if Eli was never late for class, or like he never skipped just because he could – but she couldn't stop herself from picturing him going after Owen before she had the chance to stop him. She knew she was going to have to come up with something soon, because she wouldn't be able to handle this fear much longer.

She was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief when, fifteen minutes into the hour, Eli slipped in, taking the same desk beside Anya he'd sat in the day before. A quick survey showed no new bruises or injuries, so Anya felt assured that, for now at least, he'd left Owen alone.

He seemed distracted all through class, and she caught him staring at her quite a few times, which wasn't like him. It was making Anya nervous. Had Adam told him what happened? She tried to keep a smile on her face the whole class, but after awhile decided that she probably looked more crazy than anything grinning at her French notes, and settled for just trying not to look as worried as she felt.

When the bell rang, Eli moved to sit on the top of his desk, his legs dangling off the edge on the side closest to Anya. "You understand any of that?" he asked with a smirk, tipping his head toward the blackboard.

"Uhh…sorta," she said with a tense smile. She hopped they weren't really going to make small talk about the lesson, as she'd hardly been paying any attention. She looked at him closely, and for the first time noticed a strange look in his eye. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod. There was a deliberate pause, and then - "What are you doing tonight?"

* * *

><p><em>Here goes nothing<em>. He was really doing it. He was going to pluck up the courage and ask her out. He found it strange he was so nervous, as he'd never worried so much about asking Julia or Clare out. But this was different – with both of them, he'd been plainly aware that they'd liked him. He'd waited until they were all but throwing themselves at him before making a move, waiting until he knew he couldn't lose. And sure, he and Anya had kissed, she'd spent the night in his arms, but those were all the result of unique circumstances. Did they really have something beyond that?

"Oh, you know, just getting all up close and personal with some math homework. It's hot stuff." She winked at him, and he grinned. It was a good sign that she was joking around. She looked a little uncertain, but the fact that she wasn't coming up with some sort of important plan meant she at least wasn't cutting him off at the knees before he could even ask.

"Any chance you'd be willing to blow that off for a late dinner with yours truly at the steakhouse?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Well…that relationship _has _been pretty one sided. Always dumping its problems on me and expecting me to figure it out on my own. So I don't think it really deserves my company tonight. You're on, Goldsworthy."

He forced himself not to breathe a sigh of relief. "I'll pick you up at seven?"

The smile she flashed him was so wide he imagined it had to hurt. "Sounds perfect."

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in <strong>_**Chapter 13: Hold It Against Me**_ –_ Anya steps it up a notch, Eli expresses his concerns, and labels are discussed._

**A/N:** Hello lovelies! Sorry I wasn't able to update yesterday, I had some things going on. Updates might end up slowing to every other day or every couple days for a little bit - this coming week seems a little busier than before. But no worries - I'm more in love with this story than ever, so it's not going anywhere! :) Thank you all so much for your amazing reviews. It means so much to me that this story has been so well received. Hope you stay tuned!


	13. Hold It Against Me

_**Chapter Thirteen: **_**Hold It Against Me**

Why was every cute date outfit Anya owned at least partially pink? She glanced over at the clock on her nightstand, and saw that it was already after six. Sighing, she threw what seemed like the hundredth rejected outfit to the floor, making a face at herself in the mirror. Pink was just not a 'date with Elijah Goldsworthy' color. Somewhere inside, she knew it shouldn't matter, that she should just wear whatever she wanted and be herself, but she couldn't help wanting to dress to impress. She was determined to look as good as possible, already smiling to herself at the look she hoped to put on Eli's face.

_Dress to impress_…it suddenly seemed like the most obvious idea in the world. How hadn't she thought of it before? She pushed her way through the piles of clothes on her floor and grabbed her cell phone off the bed (having been awkwardly returned to her by Marisol on Monday), quickly finding the number she wanted. "Hi, Fiona? Are you busy? Great, because I just have a small favor to ask…."

* * *

><p>Eli was surprised at just how nervous he was when he pulled to stop in front of Anya's house. The sun was only just starting to set, but already her porch light was on, as if serving as a welcome sign. He shut off his car and took a deep breath. No sweat. This was easy. It was only Anya.<p>

But he was still nervous, and he knew it wasn't just because of her. Even though it was just a date, and didn't necessarily have to go any further, it felt like the biggest risk he'd taken in a long time. He wasn't exactly known for dating scads of women, and his only two previous attempts had both ended disastrously. Was he really ready to take that sort of chance again? Why would he even bother, after everything he'd already gone through?

Anya was different, though, he reminded himself firmly. Regardless of whether he was going on this date with her, there was no denying they had a connection, that they spent a lot of time doing things that were more than friendly. This date was just the first time they acknowledged it as something more official. He wasn't putting himself out there anymore than he did every other time he talked to her – he was simply more aware of the risk he was taking this time. That was all. Nothing new to fear.

He rang the doorbell, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. An older woman answered the door, smiling Anya's kind smile. "You must be Eli," she said, her voice soft. "I'm Anya's mother."

He smiled back at her, extending his hand to her because he wasn't sure what else to do. She took it, and as she moved aside to let him in, he got a better look at her face in the light. She was pale and he could see the way she'd tried to conceal the bags under her eyes. She looked pinched, as if she had lost an amount of weight in a very short amount of time. The look in her eyes as she gestured for him to sit down on the couch told him she knew that he was aware of her illness. He felt guilty, wishing he'd been able to hide whatever had given it away. It couldn't have been easy for her, trying to keep a smile on as her face as people looked her over, trying to pick out her every flaw so they could determine just how sick she was.

"Anya's father is really sorry he couldn't be here to meet you, he had to work late. He asked that I put the proper fatherly fear in you before you take off with her, but I think we can skip it for tonight. Though if he asks -"

"I'll tell him I was absolutely terrified," he replied, smiling and grateful that Anya's mother was so welcoming.

Mrs. MacPherson sat down in a nearby armchair. "I apologize you have to wait – her friend Fiona took a little longer to get here than she expected."

Eli tried not to show how confused he was. Fiona Coyne had stopped by? "I hope you haven't been embarrassing me, mom." He looked up as Anya entered the room.

* * *

><p>Words couldn't express the surge of happiness that spread across her body when she came around the corner into the living room and saw the way Eli's eyes widened. Fiona's dress was apparently exactly what she needed.<p>

Fiona had been enthusiastic about lending her a dress, glad to see that Anya was taking some 'fashion risks'. When she arrived with the dress, Anya knew at once she probably shouldn't have told her she was going on a date with Eli because apparently, Fiona believed that the best way to make her most desirable to Eli was to make her look like a vampy vixen. The dress was black, strapless, and tight, several inches shorter at the hemline than she was used to. Anya had to admit it did make even her body look awesome, but it sent out the entirely wrong message, so she paired it with a short sleeved blazer and floral print flats, hoping to take the sex appeal down a notch. It did look much more appropriate to go with Eli than any of her pink dresses would have, though.

He was wearing jeans, she noticed as he stood up, but they were a dark wash and didn't have any holes. He was wearing a button down shirt that he'd rolled up to his elbows, and a vest. His jewelry was more understated than usual, but still distinctly him.

They looked at each other awkwardly for a few minutes, until Mrs. MacPherson stood. "I'll just leave you too be, then. You have fun, alright sweetheart?" she crossed the room and hugged Anya.

"Thank you, Mom."

As she left the room, Eli moved around the coffee table, still standing an awkward distance from her. "You look…wow," he managed, and she noticed a faint blush on his cheeks.

"You're not so bad yourself, Mr. Goldsworthy," she responded with a smile.

* * *

><p>As he held the door open for her at the front of Little Miss Steaks, Eli was once again shocked by how <em>good<em> she looked. He'd always known she was beautiful, but the way she was wearing that dress just took it to a whole different level and made him see her in a way he hadn't before.

They took their seats at a table, got their drinks and placed their orders, and once the waitress left, fell into a tensely awkward silence. Eli tried not to let him mind get ahead of him. This wasn't a bad sign. In fact, maybe it was a good one. That they were both so nervous and excited, they didn't know what to say. "You really do look incredible," he found himself saying, though he wasn't sure he meant to.

She laughed. "That's like the sixth time you've told me, but thank you again. I'll be sure to tell Fiona you liked her dress."

"Ahh, so that's why she came over? Your mother mentioned it. You borrowed her clothes?"

She made a face. "None of my clothes seemed appropriate for a date with someone of your caliber."

"I think you look beautiful all the time, in your clothes as much as anyone else's."

Her eyes shifted to the table, and she twirled the straw around in her soda. "Never seemed to make such a fuss about it in before, though."

"I don't recall you trying so hard to _get_ me to make such a fuss before, either. You go out of your way to get my attention; I'll go out of my way to make sure you know you got it."

"Fair enough. I mean…okay, I did a put a little extra effort into tonight, but I thought you deserved to know I was taking it seriously." She looked up at him, hand still on her straw, nervous.

He leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath. It was as if he suddenly understood exactly what Adam had tried to explain to him. That he was into Anya, and she was into him, and he was about the only one who didn't see it. Now that he saw it, the weight of the silence on the emotion between them seemed almost suffocating. He felt as if he had to say something now – ignoring it any longer, in the situation they were in, her looking the way she did – it'd just be madness. But was he honestly ready for this again?

* * *

><p>"The things you do to me, MacPherson." He ran his hand over his hair, smoothing his bangs, not making eye contact.<p>

Her brow furrowed. "Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

"Could be good for me…probably just all bad for you." There was a smirk playing at his lips, but his eyes were dark.

"What do you mean?" Anya had thought she'd known where this conversation was going, thought that he was flirting and getting ready to say all the cute things people say on their first dates with someone. But now, she felt embarrassed and all too aware of every inch of skin that was exposed in her ridiculous dress.

He laughed. "You haven't heard?" The smile faded from his face. "I destroy everything I touch. It wouldn't end well for you."

She looked down, blinking hard. He was, of course, referring to his old girlfriends. "I don't think that's true," she said, trying hard not to sound as disappointed as she was beginning to feel.

"Because you want to believe the best in everyone and everything, all the time. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm responsible for everything else that's gone wrong in my relationships in the past."

Her eyes shot up to meet his, though her head stayed down. "So why bring me here? Why ask me out? Just to tell me that you can't be around me, because _maybe_ something will go wrong, at some point? You could've told me that anywhere."

He squeezed his eyes shut, looking a little wounded. "I really like you, Anya," he replied when he opened his eyes. "I asked you out because I wanted to be around you. And not because you needed my help, or because I needed yours…I wanted to be around you because the only time I feel okay anymore is when I'm with you."

She bit her lip to keep from smiling at the compliment, because it didn't feel so nice in the context of the rest of the conversation. "So what's with the moody pessimism about the whole thing, then?"

He exhaled hard through his nose. "I'm tired of losing the things that make me okay," he admitted, looking down at his hands. "I don't know what I want to do here. Because being with you just feels natural. When you're with me, at my house or at school or anywhere, it just makes sense to me. And so I keep finding myself wanting to do something about it, take you out like this, or see if you want to make it official or something. But if I do that – it's like putting an expiration date on it. It's like starting the countdown clock to being alone again. And I'm just tired of doing that to myself, so I hesitate and I pretend that I don't feel the way I feel, or that you could never feel the way that I think you might, because if we don't get started, we can't end."

She swallowed, unsure of what to say to him, mostly because she completely understood what he was saying. The easiest way to not risk having to break up with someone was never to be in a relationship at all. Sure, they were great together now, they were there for each other in a way that no one else was, but – that didn't guarantee them anything. Every relationship started out good, or else it wouldn't have started at all. Yet they all end the same. "I don't think you have any idea how much I care about you," she told him. His looked back up at her, an intense emotion in her eyes she couldn't quite place. "Not just because you're my knight in shining armor, riding to my rescue every time I turn around. But because you're funny, and you're sweet, and you're brave, and you believe in being the person that you are without worrying who's bothered by it. You have this acceptance of yourself that's so…admirable, because you don't need anyone's approval to be who you are, yet you're so wonderful that people adore you anyway."

"You know what it is about you that really makes me so comfortable?" His hand slid forward across the table, and she completed the move, their hands joining. "You have this amazing gift of understanding people. You don't accept them for who they are, you really see what makes them tick and you understand it. Even if it's completely insane, you can follow someone's logic and make them not feel so crazy for looking at things the way they do."

She smiled. "People always have a reason for doing something, and it just makes more sense to me to find that reason instead of judge them for it because it's not what my thinking would have been.

"Which is exactly why I understand what you're saying, Eli. I understand that it doesn't make a bit of sense to you to pursue anything here because it could lead somewhere bad. We don't see it now because no one ever sees it now, but that won't stop it from coming if it will so…I get it. But at the same time, I think us ignoring how we feel isn't going to work either."

He nodded slowly. "I never even realized until tonight how hard it is to be so close to you but feel so far away." His hand gripped hers tighter. "I don't think I could just be friends with you, and I hate that, because I'm scared to be anything more."

"Then maybe we don't need to be," she said with a shrug, "but maybe we don't need to be just friends."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, who's to say that there are arbitrary guidelines for what you do with anyone you consider a friend and anyone you consider more than that? Why is it that you have to put a label on someone before you're entitled to feel a certain way about them?"

Eli smirked. "I like the sound of this…do continue."

She pulled her hand from his, her emotions coming out in gestures as she spoke. "We both have a lot going on in our lives. And we're really good at being there for each other, but I don't think either of us is ready for the stress that a relationship can put on us. But we still have feelings for each other. So why take a leap we don't need to make when can just feel what we feel?"

"No labels? How very…_different_ of us."

"Well, you are known for doing things the nontraditional way. But seriously – no promises, no guarantees, no expectations. We've cared about each other for awhile now, and we haven't been together, and I want to say our relationship has been better than just about everyone that I know with labels attached."

Eli nodded, but then frowned. "So…nothing changes?"

Anya was quick to shake her head. "No, things change, but only enough that we get the best of both worlds. It's different because now we both know how we feel, and so there's no awkward tension now. Now, we can take off the boundaries of where acceptable behavior for a friendship ends, and just do what we want because we're not boxing ourselves into a friendship or a relationship."

"So that means I can kiss you anytime I want?"

"I'd be insulted if you didn't," she said, her grin impossibly wide. She loved this feeling, seeing the way his eyes lit up and the smile on his face as they held hands again. Deep inside, she knew that most of what they were saying was just talk. Even if they never spelled out promises to each other, wasn't each kiss going to be one? Wasn't every phone call, every hug, every moment spent in their limbo-like relationship indicative of some sort of expectation? They were protecting themselves by deluding themselves, she knew that, but for now it was for the best.

"I would so hate to insult you, particularly on our first date," he said, raising his eyebrows as he moved forward. She did too, and in an instant their lips met. It felt better, this time, as if their mutual confession of their feelings made their kiss somehow more meaningful. Eli deepened the kiss, his hand finding its way into her hair. It was one of those moments where she wished time could stop, where they could just be this, two kids on a date, kissing just because they could, without a care in the world.

But life didn't work that way, and as they kissed, Anya felt her purse start to buzz in its spot by her foot. "Sorry," she said sheepishly as she pulled away, diving under the table to pull her phone out. She glanced at the display: _Dad._ "I have to take this, it's my dad."

* * *

><p>Eli leaned back, licking his lips, enjoying the coconut taste Anya's lip gloss left behind. He felt, for that moment, almost blissful. She was his, and at the same time she wasn't, and that just felt so perfect. Like he wouldn't be able to ruin it, because they had put themselves in the position to build each other up without leaving room for tearing each other down when things got messy.<p>

"Dad?" Anya said into the phone, still smiling at Eli. Almost instantly, however, her smile faded and she looked up at Eli with wide eyes. He felt his stomach sinking before she even spoke again. "No. No, it's okay, I'm on my way now." Her eyes were filling with tears, and Eli reached out to grab her free hand, but she pulled it away, covering her mouth. "What? Yeah, I love you too, daddy. Tell her I love her. I'll be there soon."

She shut the phone with a snap and stood up, stuffing it into her purse. "Anya? What happened?" Eli asked, feeling panicked.

"This was a mistake," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks, "I shouldn't have come here." She was gone then, running from the restaurant.

Eli felt almost too stunned to move, but he forced himself up, racing after her. He would come back to settle their bill later, but in that moment, his only thought was stopping Anya. He got to her just as she reached the door. "Anya, please wait!" He put his hand on her arm and she whirled around, pulling her arm away.

"I don't have time for this!"

"Then you need to tell me what's going on, because this doesn't make sense! What happened on the phone?"

The door opened and they both moved aside to let an older couple through, and Anya glared at him until they were out of earshot. "My dad came home, and my mom…" she covered her mouth as she choked back a sob "—she was unconscious, okay? And he's in the ambulance with her right now and they're going to the hospital and I don't know what's wrong but I don't have time for this, so please, just let me go!"

"I'll take you," Eli said automatically, his mind reeling from the shock. He knew they were both thinking the same thing – if it wasn't for their date, her mother wouldn't have been alone. "We don't have to talk, you don't even have to look at me, but you'll get there faster if I take you. Let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>Next time, in Chapter 14: <strong>_**(Title is not yet determined)–**__ Anya receives new on her mother's health, Eli meets Dr. Chris, and Eli unravels._

**A/N:** Firstly, I am SOOOO sorry it's taken me so long to update! But do not worry, I have **not** abandoned this story. Updates have slowed, obviously, but I am hoping to get you another update soon! I'm excited for the next chapter, I just need to find some time to get it written the way I want it. Thank you all for sticking with this story! Do not worry - it will continue!


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